The One Ring
by Miss Faber
Summary: Water. Earth. Fire. Air. It's the story you think you know, plus one ring.
1. Concerning Airbenders

**The One Ring**

**Chapter 1: Concerning Airbenders**

_A/N: _"The One Ring" is basically the Lord of the Rings plotline loosely injected into the Avatar-verse. That said, there will be characters from both _Avatar the Last Airbender_ and _The Legend of Korra_. I've been working on this story for almost a year, and I'm really excited to post it- I hope you guys like it. Please, please review!

* * *

Water. Earth. Fire. Air.

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

Perhaps you've heard this story before. Perhaps you've heard of the famous battles, the infamous forts; perhaps you've heard of incredible deeds of valor, and of the names attached to them. But you've never heard the story quite like this.

Most have heard of Fire Lord Sozin; a contemptuous, nefarious name, associated purely with the beginning of the Hundred Year War. He claimed, at first, to be spreading the bounty of the Fire Nation to all the lands; but it soon became something far more malicious. Overcome by the desire to make the Fire Nation superior, Sozin utilized a comet that would enhance firebending to begin his war. He then spread fear and flames through the world, instigating the Century of Fire.

But there were some who resisted.

Benders from every nation defended their homelands and all that was precious to them. Unlikely alliances were forged; and it was in them, perhaps, that hope survived.

Small but potent armies met Sozin's soldiers in war. It was in one of these old battles that Sozin executed one deed that no man in all of time can ever lay claim to: murdering the Avatar.

It was a confrontation between two strengths, two incredible powers. Avatar Kyoshi, in the throes of old age, fought until her wizened hands could no longer; then she restorted to the Avatar state, utilizing the strength of all her past lives.

It was then that Sozin's fatal blow fell.

Until that point, the world was clinging onto the dregs of hope with the desperation of a dying man. But when the Avatar cycle was ended, all hope was truly lost.

This history known by all; printed fact, left to gather dust in ancient records. But there is a more secret line of history, carried in whispers and known to the very few noble men and women who dictated it.

It involves... a ring.

* * *

In a remote corner of the world, where peace is drawn in with every refreshing breath, an ostrich horse draws a carriage up a winding trail, its rider shielding his eyes from the blinding sun.

The ostrich horse huffs and puffs furiously, though its journey is nearly at its end. Below them, behind them, and before them lies the magnificence of the Patola Mountain Range. The rider chances a glance over the ridge mere inches from his horse's feet; he can spot the base of the mountain, from which spring rising trails that have been expertly carved centuries ago, by those who knew this mountain better than the lines on their own palms. He grows slightly disoriented and looks up; against the glittering backdrop of the sun's rays on a blue sky are great, spiralling towers of white and blue and sparkling hints of bronze. Several mountaintops hide behind clouds; their craggly peaks make timid appearances when the lighting is oppurtune. Amorphous shadows of weaving figures dance among the clouds; the rider smiles whenever he spots one, his grin widening if his ears pick up an accompanying laugh. Mist surrounds them, and at their high altitude, it is a miracle the rider can breathe; but breathe he does, great, greedy gulps of the unnaturally clean air, so unlike the fumes of his homeland.

Still squinting at the sky, Roku pulls the brim of his hat down. He returns his attention to the beast he rides, who has paused in order to take a much needed breath.

"Faster, now." Though his tone is stern, his hand is gentle as he leans forward to stroke the ostrich horse's mane. He glances up again, at the towers, at the hints of windows and doorways and life; this is the Southern Air Temple, and his gaze is full of unbidden nostalgia. "We're close."

The ostrich horse does not disappoint him; as though it can understand its master's words, it redoubles its efforts to reach its rider's destination.

Minutes later, the echoes of laughter become clear and unmistakeable in Roku's ears; the airball arena comes into view. Several airbenders hover over air scooters, whizzing past each other with their arms outstretched. The back of one airbender, who is not quite a boy and yet not a man, stiffens at the sound of the ostrich horse's hooves; he abandons the game and turns, grey eyes widening in recognition and delight.

"_Roku_!" He rushes past his companions on the whizzing air scooter, which is extinguished once he launches himself into Roku's arms. "It's really you!"

Roku lets out a booming laugh. "Aang, my boy."

Aang pulls back from the embrace, and Roku takes a moment to study him. The baby fat that had rounded his face in childhood is almost completely gone; high, sharp cheekbones replace them. Though still beardless, his shoulders have grown in breadth, and if he wasn't folded up in the carriage, Roku wouldn't have been surprised if Aang matched his height.

His eyes, however, are still as wide and grey and innocent as ever.

"Well, that's entirely inaccurate- you're a man now. You've even got your tattoos- you've masted airbending!" Roku's wizened face cracks into a grin. "_Finally_," he adds teasingly.

"That was a few years ago, and you'd know that if you visited more often," Aang says, half-crossly. "How hard can it be to take a little side trip to the Southern Air Temple?"

"Harder than you know," Roku mumbles, then raises his voice. "But I can never fully tell you how glad I am to be here."

"It_ is _great to see you," Aang says, smile reflecting his sincerity.

"Of course," Roku says lightly. "Did you think for a second that I'd miss your uncle's birthday?"

"Fireworks, Sifu Roku!" Engrossed in their reunion, the two have not noticed that the airbenders have ceased their game and stand watching, half of them following their conversation. Now, a little girl speaks, her button nose scrunched up with the force of her pleading. "Fireworks, fireworks, please!"

In response, Roku pulls on the reigns of his ostrich horse. "Let's go."

They move forward with a protesting groan from the wheels of the carriage; the airbenders' groans of disappointment follow the pair as they move further up the trail. Seconds later, fireworks erupt behind them, and the groans carry into shrieks of delight.

"Still haven't figured out how you can do that," Aang says, with barely contained awe.

Roku merely grins.

"Any news of the outside world?" Aang queries, after a few comfortable minutes of silence.

Roku throws him a sideways glance beneath the wide brim of his hat. "You are far too eager and curious for an airbender."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Airbenders are supposed to be peaceful, spiritual, and content... Agni knows I'd be content, if I had never seen anything but this secluded world." His tone, initially half-joking, turns contemplative and serious.

Aang seems not to notice. "It's your fault."

Roku raises an eyebrow. "Is it now?"

"Yes." A smile tickles Aang's lips. "Before you came along, our family was quite _peaceful_, as you put it. Never had any adventures, never did anything unexpected."

"I suppose you're right," Roku concedes, though he sounds the complete opposite of remorseful. "Your uncle's the only monk to have ever left the Southern Air Temple, I believe."

"And that's because of you."

Roku turns on him. "And what of that stubborn, hot-headed, waterbending friend of yours? Am I the only outsider to besmirch your good name?"

Aang chuckles. "Alright, you've got me there."

"How is she?" Roku inquires.

"Good," Aang answers. "The same. We all are." He adds the last with a touch of resignation.

Roku appraises him. "You really are too curious for an airbender."

Aang doesn't answer.

"Everyone is the same, you say?" Roku echoes, a few moments later.

"Mostly, yes," Aang replies.

"Even your uncle?"

"No," Aang admits, after a moment. "He's... quieter these days. I can't explain it." His forehead creases with the force of his visible worry; then slackens as he continues to speak. "But I'm sure tonight will cheer him up. It's his birthday, after all."

Roku nods silently, though his mind is buzzing with thought. They continue their slow climb upwards. At some point, they pass a wild growth of leechee berries; the fruit springs from a clump of bushes a few meters from them.

"I've missed this place," Roku sighs appreciatively. "It's like a little slice of heaven."

The airbending community gradually comes into view. A few men and women wave and call amicable greetings; some, mostly of the younger crowd, run off to announce that the famed firebender was back. Some close their doors with disapproving grunts. An old man approaches Roku, who pauses the carriage respectfully and carries out a small conversation with him.

"There he is, that meddling firebender!" someone shouts.

Rather than feel insulted, Roku chuckles. "It seems I've got quite the reputation."

"As do we," Aang says. "And if you're to soil it so much, can't you visit more often?"

Roku laughs. "I wish I could, my boy. But I'm here now."

Aang nods. "Then we'll make the most of it."

Roku nods in agreement, smiling.

"I've got to hop off." Aang stands, one arm gripping the edge of the carriage to steady himself, the other raised in a wave. "I'll see you at the celebration tonight!"

"Indeed you will."

A moment later, Aang stands in the wake of the carriage, which continues to move up the road, his hand still raised in a parting wave. "I'm glad you're back!"

"So am I!" Roku calls, before returning his attention to the path before him. "So am I."

Minutes later, Roku finds himself before an extremely familiar perch. He is smiling as he descends from his carriage, petting his horse once before approaching the door. He knocks twice.

"Aang?" Roku smiles as Gyatso's low tones reach his ears. "Aang, where are you? Will you get the door, please?"

Roku waits for a moment, still smiling. Then, just as he predicted: "Aang, get the door!"

"I always knew there would come a day when you'd lose your temper," Roku says.

His smile is broader than ever when the door is promptly pulled open, and a wizened face greets him. "Oh- Oh, Roku!"

Beaming, Roku extends his arms. "Monk Gyatso."

"My dear Roku!" Gyatso steps forward, his arms outstretched; they meet in an embrace, the both of them laughing.

"It has been far too long, old friend," Gyatso says, pulling away.

"Oh, indeed. Indeed."

"Please, come in! You hardly need an invitation. You never have." Gyatso steps back and walks into his home. Roku follows.

"How have you been?" As he walks, Roku observes the walls of the home he's frequented quite a bit. They are hardly changed. The ceiling is high, the furnishings sparse. Cushions and low tables form comfortable sitting areas. Everything is in tranquil shades of blue and yellow. The walls are composed more of windows than actual brick and mortar.

"Well- I have been well."

"Is that right?"

Gyatso, busy putting together a tray of refreshments in an adjoining small kitchen, shoots Roku a look over his shoulder at the obvious suspicion in the latter's voice. Roku merely shrugs.

"Leechee juice or tea?" asks Gyatso.

"Tea- _just_ tea, thank you."

"Right. And would you like some fruit pies or-"

"It's time."

At those two words, Roku watches Gyatso's shoulders sag. "Is it?"

"Yes." All mirth is gone from the two. "I am- I am sorry."

"It's not your place to apologize," Gyatso says, his back still turned to his friend. "This was my choice. Years and years ago, I chose this. And I am now being held to it."

Roku nods solemnly, though his friend cannot see him. A moment later, he watches Gyatso take in a deep breath and force himself to turn. There is a tray in his hands.

"I put out the fruit pies, anyway," Gyatso says, a bit breathlessly. Roku chuckles. He reaches out and plucks a fat grape from its vine. Gyatso takes one of the steaming cups and takes a small sip.

"Aang suspects something," Roku eventually says. "He says you've been... _quieter_."

"I suppose that I have been," Gyatso says. "How can I conceal from him that I know... that I know the end is near?"

"Oh, Gyatso..."

"It's true, Roku." Gyatso's words are edged. "You're trying to hide it from me, but you can't. Do you think that I haven't done my own calculations? In the cold of winter, in the dark of night, do you think that my mind is able to bear any other thing? I know that Sozin's Comet is near. And I do not think our world will survive it."

The lines in Gyatso's face appear to have sunk deeper by the time he is done. Roku doubts he looks any different.

"I have tried- to my utmost ability- to hide it all from Aang, but I can't." Gyatso looks at Roku helplessly. "He is such a good boy. Such a good boy..."

"He is."

"I've left everything to him." Gyatso points to a table near the opposite wall, before a curtained window. It is cluttered with books and scrolls. "It's there. It's all there."

Roku is silent; he hasn't the slightest idea what to say.

"Roku..." Gyatso says. "I cannot imagine a world where Aang doesn't live to be as old as I am."

Roku closes his eyes for a moment, then speaks. "My friend. I will not lie and say that your fears are baseless. Though it pains me to say it, they are not. But there are no _impending_ dangers-"

"There are," Gyatso says, in a tone that indicates he will accept nothing else. "And even if there isn't... then what we are in is a state of stagnancy. I fear this is the calm before the storm."

Roku speaks quietly. "I come with good news, my friend."

"Good news?"

"A few months ago, I came upon something wondrous- Wan Shi Tong's library."

Gyatso's eyes widened. "You have found it?"

"Yes, I have- buried entirely in sand and guarded by a rather cranky owl." He watches Gyatso smile at the small joke. "In it, I found some information regarding... regarding the Ring. An experiment. I've consulted other members of the Order, and we're in agreement. That is why I'm here today."

Gyatso nods. Though the news is comparatively good, he can't help but dwell on something that has been eating away at him throughout the entirety of the conversation.

"You've come to take the Ring."

Roku looks mildly surprised, but he nods. "Yes, I am. But you already know that. I've told you that it is time."

Gyatso's expression does not change.

"You said it was there on the table, yes?" Roku gets to his feet and begins to walk over there.

"Yes- yes, it's there." Gyatso's eyes are trained on the platter of fruit before him as Roku rummages through the scrolls.

"No, wait," Gyatso says suddenly. His tone grows more absentminded as he speaks. "Wait, it's... it's here. It's here in my pocket."

Slowly, Gyatso reaches into the folds of his robe and pulls out an unmistakeable gold Ring.

Roku's eyes are like hot coals. Gyatso is mindless of this- his attention is focused entirely on the Ring, which he cradles at the very edges of his fingertips. "Isn't.. isn't that odd now?" He chuckles.

Stepping forward, Roku holds out a small cloth sack. "Give me the Ring, Gyatso."

"Yes, but... well..." Roku watches the monk's eyes darken. "Why shouldn't I keep it?"

Roku's tone is low and menacing. "Gyatso..."

"Why shouldn't I keep it?" He says again. "I found it. It came to me. It's mine, my own... _my precious_."

"Precious?" Roku's lip curled. "It's been called that before, but not by you..."

Gyatso finally rips his gaze from the Ring, and when it falls on Roku, it is full of rage. "I won't give it to you! You can't make me!"

In all his life, Roku has never seen Gyatso raise his voice; nor had he ever seen that manic look in his eyes. His heartbeat picks up its pace, but when he holds out the sack his hand is steady. "Give me the ring."

"_You won't steal it from me! You can't!_"

Roku draws himself to his full height. "Monk Gyatso! You are not yourself!" His voice booms in a way he reserves for those who are less favorable to him. "I am not trying to rob you!"

Gyatso's eyes widen, and he clutches his chest. Roku forces his voice to soften. "I'm trying to help you."

Something in Gyatso's eyes seems to clear, and suddenly he stumbles. Roku steps forward and steadies him with an arm. Gyatso shakes his head, brow creased. When he speaks, his voice is strained and weak. "Oh... oh, Roku, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

Roku thinks he knows, but he says nothing. He only pats his friend's back reassuringly.

"I think... I think I might take a small trip," Gyatso says. "Travel again. I haven't since I was young. And oh, I love this place, and I love Aang- but I think, I think I just might."

Roku says nothing as Gyatso pulls away from him and quickly makes his way to the door of his home. "Perhaps I will," says Gyatso. "But as of now, there's a small celebration I must attend to."

"Gyatso?"

The door to Gyatso's home now stands open. "Hmm?"

"The Ring is still in your pocket."

"Oh..." Gyatso smiles weakly. "Oh, I suppose it is."

Once again, the monk reaches into his robe and pulls the Ring out. He holds it, for a few moments, in a fist. Then he relaxes his fingers, and the small golden band lays still on his open palm.

Roku's eyes are narrowed as he watches every minute change in Gyatso's expression. First he watches the Ring with a sort of nostalgia. His bottom lip trembles. His lip draw back as he tilts his hand the slightest bit; but then he rights it again, and the Ring is still in Gyatso's palm. The nostalgia returns, this time tinged with longing. Finally, there is steely determination in Gyatso's eyes as he tips over his hand. As the Ring breaks contact with Gyatso's skin, he flinches, as though the movement caused him pain. And as the Ring falls to the floor, there is an expression in Gyatso's eyes that Roku is unable to name.

Seconds later, Gyatso is shaking his head as he steps out of the door.

"Well." Roku mutters under his breath as he bends over to place the Ring in the cloth sack, careful not to touch it. When he straightens and the Ring is safely put away, the sight of the Southern Air Temple cheers him again. He thinks he can see Aang whizzing around on an airball.

Roku smiles to himself. "This'll be a night to remember."

* * *

The feast is as grand as a feast held by airbenders can be.

Airbenders are known for many things, and Roku loves them all. Their temples are beautiful and stately, carved into mountains, cut through with the occasional waterfall. Their music is exquisite and melodic. Their people are soft and elegant and fair, possessing uniquely angelic features. Their craftsmanship is clever; weapons manufactured by airbenders are usually light and incredibly refined. Their food, however, is not of the highest caliber; especially to a wordly man who is accustomed to the meats of the Earth Kingdom and the spices of the Fire Nation.

To put it kindly, the food of the airbenders lacks protein. Airbenders are vegetarians. The spread Roku is met with when Gyatso's celebration begins is, by some standards, meager. By others- namely the standards of the airbenders who pass before the white tables, popping fruit into their mouths and swaying to the soft music that plays in the background- it is exquisite. There are dumplings stuffed with vegetables, accompanied by bowls of soups and stews. Steaming rice and noodles are mixed with a variety of vegetables. The desserts are delectable; mooncakes and notable fruit pies. There are all sorts of juices- banana, peach, onion, and apple. Nothing intoxicating, Roku notes.

Roku stands off to one side, nursing a tall glass of a tasty fruit beverage he can not name. A few feet away is Gyatso, talking to a few of the Elders. He is in his element. The conversation seems to come swiftly and with ease, although his gaze occasionally flickers to where Roku lurks.

Something catches Roku's attention. A man with airbending tattoos hovers over a table bedecked with pastries. The way he looks over the fruit pies indicates he is famished. Roku wonders why this has caught his attention until he sees the man choose a mooncake. The way he looks at the pastry is synonymous with a look he's seen before, and suddenly Roku can name that expression he saw in Gyatso's eyes as he dropped the Ring.

Hunger.

The thought is disturbing, as so Roku seeks out Aang in the crowd.

He finds him on the other side of the open hall, where the younger crowd is. The music that drifts from that area is more jolly, and the airbenders dance in circles and in pairs. Roku watches as a bold girl pulls Aang into a dance, swinging him around; Aang's expression is so obviously clueless and excited. Roku chuckles into his glass.

Aang allows the girl to pull him to and fro, and they move with the throng of bodies until Aang finds himself standing at the edge of the circle, slightly dizzy.

"_So_. Aang. How long has it been?"

The young airbender holds his breath, disbelieving. Degree by degree, he turns, and when he sees the visage of his best friend he is unable to hold back a gasp.

"_Korra!_"

Korra holds out her arms and Aang runs into them, nearly knocking her off her feet. They stand embracing and laughing for quite a while, not pulling apart before minutes had passed.

"How- what?" Smiling broadly, Aang stumbles over his words.

"There's a few things I used to convince my parents to make the trip out here," Korra tells him. "First off, Monk Gyatso's birthday. Second, I haven't seen you in _three months_. Third, Roku would be here. I have to admit, that last one was a guess- but it's what got them to say yes. And Spirits, am I glad to see that Roku's really here!"

"You got lucky," says Aang.

"Luck or intuition, whatever. _Aang_." Korra adopts a mock serious expression. "I think you're about as tall as me."

Aang shoved her shoulder playfully. "Korra. I'm taller than you."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"By how much?"

"Two inches. At least."

Korra's retort is bit off as a small mass crashes into her back. "_Korra_! Korra, oh my Spirits, _Korra_, I can't believe it's you!"

Korra only knows one person who talks so quickly and with such enthusiasm. "Great to be back, Ikki."

"Get off her, Ikki!" The voice of Ikki's sister, the more sensible of the two, reaches Korra's ears, and a moment later the weight is lifted off her. As Korra pulls herself to her feet, she finds two airbending girls standing beside Aang.

"Wonderful to have you back, Korra," Jinora says, smiling.

"Thank you, Jinora- I'm really glad I'm here."

"Come dancing with us, Korra," suggests Ikki brightly. "Or, actually, we're about to add some _spice_ to the juice around here. Guess what we found in Roku's carriage!"

Ikki lifts a thin, long dark bottle. Korra's lifts her eyebrows in surprise, but nods in approval. Jinora closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"I just want you to know, Aang, that I do _not _approve of this," Jinora says.

"Right," says Aang.

"Because I _don't_," repeats Jinora, for emphasis.

Aang crosses his arms over his chest. "Then why are you going with her?"

Ikki cuts in. "Because she's got my back, silly. Anyway. Will you help, Aang? I know you don't really mind, you're just pretending for Jinora..."

"Hey!"

"I don't mind," Aang says, smiling. "But Korra just got back, and we'd like to catch up."

"Sounds like a plan!" Ikki decrees. "Alright then, we're off, gotta do this while the Elders aren't looking!"

"And Roku," Jinora reminds her. "And any of the parents."

Ikki turns to wink at Aang and Korra. "Told you she's really on my side."

Jinora hits Ikki on the arm and protests, but Aang and Korra don't hear what it is she says. Moments later, the two girls are swallowed by the crowd.

"So," says Aang. "What do you want to do?"

"Dance, of course." Korra grins, then proceeds to pull Aang directly into the fray.

* * *

The party comes to a close. Aang and Korra have departed some time ago, saying they are going off on a walk. Roku stands at the edge of a precipice, overseeing much of the mountain, and two girls in particular. Ikki and Jinora are elbow deep in soap and water; washing all the dishes and platters is penance for attempting to intoxicate the party guests. Roku is the one who caught them. Monk Gyatso, the guest of honor, has retired to his rooms almost an hour prior.

"Can we go now?" Ikki whines.

Roku spares them a glance and finds a tower of dirty dishes. "Not quite done."

"_Ugh_." Ikki mumbles of injustice under her breath while Jinora nudges her, telling her to "please just do the work so they could be done with it."

Perhaps a bit too amused by all this, Roku chuckles as he returns his watch to the night sky. His gaze wanders downwards and downwards, until he picks up on something unusual.

Three short figures slip out of a door and begin to make their way down weaving paths of the mountain. Roku wonders why they are so small, and so dark- he thinks that they are probably hunched- when he recognizes the door as Gyatso's. He's on his feet in a flash.

Their helmets look disturbingly familiar- but no. That cannot be.

"Airbenders don't wear helmets," he grumbles to himself as he quickly descends, whizzing past Ikki and Jinora without a word.

He is at Gyatso's door in minutes. For a split second, he ponders going after the intruders, but quickly decides against it. Roku touches the door, pauses, then pushes. It has been left ajar.

The interior of the home is dark. Shafts of moonlight paint circles of illumination on the floor. Roku swallows as he holds up two fingers of each hand- ready to defend himself, Gyatso, and Aang at a moment's notice.

"Gyatso?" He calls, not caring if it is unwise. "Aang?"

He continues to move through the main hall. He notes that a leg of one of the small tables is broken; not a good sign. The corner table with the collection of scrolls is in complete disarray. Roku swallows again.

Finally, he reaches the kitchen, and in that small doorway Roku falls to his knees.

Gyatso lies on the kitchen floor, limbs splayed. A convenient shaft of moonlight hits him squarely in the face, illuminating his empty eyes.

"Oh, Agni, no." A sort of mangled sound escapes Roku's throat. "No. No."

He crawls forward, unable to make use of his legs just yet; but Gyatso is undeniably dead. He feels the prickle of tears burn at the back of his eyes, but he is then alerted to a sound.

The door is opening.

Roku jumps to his feet, revenge pulsing at his fingertips. He stands by the doorway, back plastered to the wall.

"Uncle?"

Roku sags with relief, but quickly picks himself up. Aang's uncle is dead, splayed on the kitchen floor.

"Sifu Gyatso?"

Roku sucks in a breath and steps into view. "Aang. Korra."

Aang's brow furrows. "Sifu Roku? You're here?"

"Aang... you ought to stay with your cousins tonight."

"What? Why?"

"I..." Roku falters, mind reeling with the thought of Gyatso's lifeless body. "Well, they've told me that they planned to invite you and Korra to stay with them tonight, to celebrate Korra's arrival. Jinora and Ikki said they forgot to tell you."

Aang shakes his head. "Actually, I just ran into them, and they didn't mention it. What they _did_ say was that you made them do all the dishes, which I think is really... Roku, why are you standing like that?"

Roku is standing with his body leaning slightly forward, his hands gripping both sides of the doorjam so tightly that his knuckles shine white. Despite Aang's question, he does not relax his grip.

"Aang." He feels himself choke up, and, terrified, swallows the lump in his throat. "Please leave."

But Aang is moving forward, slowly but steadily. "Roku... what're you hiding?"

"Aang, _please_."

Aang continues to move forward. Korra stands in the background, looking slightly scared.

"Why do you want me to leave?" Aang's voice has risen, his voice now tinged with panic. His eyes are unbelievably wide. He is close to Roku; a foot away. In a moment of wild panic, Roku asks himself if he would truly attack Aang to force him away from the door.

"_Let me see_!" Aang launches himself at Roku, who does not budge. He tries again, and Roku holds his ground; but Aang begins to struggle, and as he forces his head underneath Roku's arm, he catches a glance, and a glance is enough.

Roku catches Aang as he falls bonelessly to the ground. Korra is beside them in an instant. She, too, glimpses what is in the kitchen.

"Spirits..." Even as she helps Roku hold up Aang's body, she begins to lament, her eyes brimming with tears. "I can't believe this... oh Spirits..."

"Korra." Roku is stern as he holds her chin in his hands, forces her to look at him. "I need you to take him into the bedroom. I need you to take care of him until... until I take care of this."

Though her lip was trembling, Korra nods.

"I will be back. Do nothing else until I get back."

"Yes," Korra says breathlessly. She pulls Aang's arm over her shoulders and begins to move forward; and as she does so, Aang's entire frame seems to shudder and he lets loose with a single, terrible howl.

* * *

It is not long before Roku returns to them, but to Korra it feels like a century. But she knows it could not have been a long time; it is still night. Aang sits on the corner of the bed, huddled in on himself. He has not made a sound since that mournful howl.

When Roku walks into the room, he keeps the door open. "Korra, I must speak to Aang alone."

Korra fixes him with a glare. Until then, she was able to accept many things without question, but she will not accept this.

"Korra. It is very, very important."

She stands, but makes no move to leave. "I can't leave him," she says, a fierce whisper.

Roku holds up a steaming cup. "I will care for him."

For a moment, Korra stands undecidedly. Finally, biting her lip, she moves past Roku to the door. She jerks her chin at the cup. "That better make him feel better."

Roku nods, and Korra closes the door.

The firebender moves so that he is kneeling before Aang. He offers the cup. "Drink this."

Aang shakes his head, mute.

"It will help you forget," says Roku.

Aang hesitates, but reaches for the cup. Roku breathes out in relief as he watches him take a sip. He has mixed in herbs that would help steady his nerves.

"I don't want to forget," Aang chokes out, without warning. "I... I don't want to. What _happened_, Roku?"

Roku looks at Aang. His eyes are shiny, his cheeks slick with tears. "I wish I didn't have to tell you."

Aang's bottom lip trembles. "What does that mean?"

Roku sighs, and a part of him seems to accept that there will be no easy way to do this. "Your uncle was murdered."

Aang's face contorts with the force of his tears. "I- I thought so. I saw the blood."

Roku reaches forward and envelops Aang's hands in both of his. "I am so, so sorry."

"Why, Roku?"

The firebender breaths in. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Aang nods once, curt.

Roku then reaches into his pocket and retrieves a small sack. He turns it over; thr Ring tumbles onto the bed. Aang looks at it but says nothing.

"Centuries ago, at the very start of the world, eight rings were forged. You've heard of them, yes?"

"Of- of course. But they're stories. Myths. Legends."

"Many things that should not have passed into legend have done so," Roku says sternly. "But no matter. It is all true. Eight rings were forged- and in them was the will to govern every nation. One was given to the Fire Lord, another to the Earth King, two to the Chiefs of the Northern and Southern Water tribes, and four to a distinguished Elder at each of the Air Temples. They have been passed down for ages, for generations."

Roku pauses to take a breath. Aang's eyes are wide and bloodshot, grief-stricken. Roku feels a stab of pity, then promptly ignores it. There will be a time for grieving, he knows, but it is not now.

"A century ago, Fire Lord Sozin- you know of him, yes?" Roku waits for Aang's nod of confirmation. "He was possessed by his vision of power, of turning all the lands into fire. He utilized the Comet, now called Sozin's Comet, to begin the war... but not only for that purpose. He had a much more sinister plan."

Roku pauses again. "There is a Fire Nation island- called Crescent Island- that is more a volcano than anything else. In the present day, it is incredibly deadly- but it was not always so. Once, when fire's only purpose was not pain and destruction, there was a temple on Crescent Island that the Sages used to use... it's not there anymore. During the Comet, Sozin climbed to the apex of the volcano and created a new Ring."

Aang was able to register mild confusion through the waves of numbness. "Another ring?"

"Yes. Another ring. Nobody knows exactly how. And into that ring he poured his cruelty, his malice... and his will to dominate all life. In that ring, the power of the Comet is contained." Roku's eyes shift sideways, to the small golden band that lays on the bed beside Aang. "This is that ring."

Aang swallows. "What... what can the Ring do?"

"One of its many ploys is seduction," answers Roku. "It is nearly impossible to resist its call. And it not only increases the potency and strength of firebending, as Sozin's Comet does- but it is a general amplifier of strength, no matter the holder."

"But.. why would Sozin do that?" Aang asks. "Wouldn't he want it to strengthen firebending alone, so that that it can't be used against him?"

"No," says Roku. "Sozin was clever. He realized that if the ring could not amplify every kind of bending, it would have less worth in most eyes. That would lessen its seductive powers. No, no... Sozin let the Ring have the ability to aid others- because if others believed they truly possessed it, then it would possess them. And in that way, it would find its way back to its true master."

"And... who is its master?"

"Sozin, of course." Roku's lip curls, a mirthless smile. "His life force will eternally be bound to the Ring. Although the current Fire Lord, Fire Lord Ozai, is seeking it."

Roku's gaze moves to the ring. "Ozai is seeking it... seeking it, seeking it, all his thought is bent on it. And the Ring yearns, above all else, to return to its master."

"What would happen... if he found it?"

Roku closes his eyes. "The world will be covered in a second darkness."

Aang is quiet for a moment. "Is this why my uncle died?"

"For a good number of decades, that ring lay quiet in your uncle's keeping. But no longer. Evil is stirring in the Crescent Island. I believe... I believe that is why those men were here."

"Firebenders?"

"I can't be sure."

Aang picks up the Ring, held it in his open palm. "I don't want it. Take it away."

Roku's eyes shifted to the wall. "I cannot."

"Take it, Roku."

"No- no, your uncle left it to you."

"And yet it was in _your_ pocket. Take it, Roku!"

Roku turns his head away. "I cannot!"

"Take it! I'm offering it to you freely, I'm asking you to take it!"

"_Don't tempt me, Aang_!" His voice booms, more forceful than he intends; his expression is pained.

"Please.. try to understand..." Roku wrings his hands, avoids looking at the Ring. "I would use this Ring from a desire to do good. You believe me, don't you?"

Aang looks away. "Yes."

"I dare not take it," Roku murmurs.

"I won't let it stay here," Aang says, just as firmly as before. "Look at what it brought to my uncle- to the only family I have."

"I will _not_ take the Ring, Aang."

"But it cannot stay in the Temple!"

"No..." Roku's eyes, at that moment, are inexplicably sad. "No, it can't."

Aang's fist closes around the Ring as understanding dawns on him. "What must I do?"

* * *

Minutes later, Aang stands at the door, a fully-stocked pack hanging from his shoulders. Roku is quickly issuing instructions.

"Stay off the main roads. Careful while moving down the mountain, never take a path too steep. Aim for cover, never move where there are no trees."

"Why can't you come with me?"

"This... this entire situation is unprecedented. I must consult with my Order, and I must find more information. I will meet you in a village at the base of the mountain- its name is Jangor."

"Can't I take Appa?"

"An Air Bison is much too easily spotted, especially when you move away from the Temple. No, you must go on foot."

"I can manage that," Aang says. "I move quickly. I won't be spotted."

Roku places a hand on Aang's shoulders. He sees that the lad's eyes are still rimmed with red. "Airbenders really are the most amazing of people."

Aang tries to smile. "You sound surprised."

The corner of Roku's mouth curves, and he leans over to open the door. Korra stands there, arms crossed over her chest.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Both of them scramble to find a reasonable excuse. "Aang is-"

Korra holds up a hand. "Save it. I heard everything."

"You were _eavesdropping_?"

"Yes. I heard everything about Sozin, and about the-"

"_Shhh_!"

Korra signals her understanding. "Point is, Aang isn't going anywhere without me."

Roku lifts his brows at her self-assured tone. Korra merely shrugs. "He needs me."

The firebender cannot find it in himself to argue. Minutes later, Korra is wearing a pack of her own, and she firmly takes Aang's arm in hers, shooting him a bracing smile. And so, just as darkness was turning into dawn, the two set off on the most unexpected of journeys.

* * *

_A/N: _Please review! Reviews make me very happy!


	2. At the Running Rabbaroo

_A/N: _Hello, everyone! Sorry it took so long for this chapter- first I went on vacation, then I got really busy with school. I wrote it in pieces, and some parts were really difficult to get through.. but here it is, finally! I hope you enjoy it- it's more than 10,000 words!

And a sincere thank you to everyone who reviewed! Please review this chapter as well, you can't imagine the encouragement it gives me. :)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**At the Running Rabbaroos**

The land before the two lone travelers begins to level out on the morning of the third day.

Aang and Korra are sure to clear the main area of habitation of the temple on the night of their departure. Throughout the walk, Roku's final words to them ring in Aang's ears.

"Never put it on," Roku said, hours and hours before. "The agents of your enemy will be drawn to its power, and your location will be revealed."

Aang only nodded, unable to do much else.

"Remember, Aang..." Roku went on. "You are carrying a piece of your enemy with you. The Ring _wants_ to be found."

Panic gripped Aang then, and he latched onto Roku's arm. The old firebender looked down at him, finding his eyes wide and shiny. "Where- where in Jangor will you meet us, Roku?"

"At the Inn of the Running Rabbaroos." Roku pried Aang's hand from his arm, but then took it into his own. He sent him a small, reassuring smile- and moments later, they separated, and Aang and Korra walked on. Aang feels stirrings of uneasiness as his mind returns to Roku's words: "_a piece of your enemy_."

Mere hours before the dawn, Aang states his desire to stop and rest; and Korra, seeing his red-rimmed eyes and exhausted countenance, is tempted to allow it. But she knows that the morning will bring waking airbenders, and that it won't be long before they discover the death of their esteemed monk. Everyone would then be on the lookout for Aang, wishing to give their condolences and sympathies, and their mission would be irreparably hindered.

Again, Korra experiences slight indecision. Why _not_ slow down, and allow Aang the comfort of his people? He deserves that much, at least. She begins to forget all the initial urgency she'd felt while listening to Roku explain the mission to Aang, and suddenly she is that girl comforting Aang in the bedroom. Roku has certainly asked too much of Aang; Korra starts to believe that now. This conviction grows so much within her that she asks Aang if he'd like to stop and rest, just sunlight is starting to paint the craggy edges of the mountains golden.

But Aang refuses, mumbling something incoherent, and they move on.

The last trace of airbender civilization is the base of one of the white, spiralling towers that shoots into the sky. Aang quickly moves around it, wary of the airbenders that may be flying around the top. Korra, who paused to tighten a lace on her boot, looks up and cannot find him.

A brief moment of panic grips her heart, but she forces herself to swallow it and scan her surroundings for him. She can't see him, and she takes quick steps forward, her eyes moving back and forth. "Aang? Aang!"

Aang appears in her line of vision, brow furrowed in confusion, and Korra heaves a sigh of relief.

"What? What is it?" asks Aang, surprised at the urgency in his friend's voice.

"Nothing," says she. "Just thought I'd lost you."

The sincerity in Korra's eyes touches Aang, and he smiles for the first time since they'd set out for their journey. "I'm fine," he says, then adds teasingly: "I didn't know I had my own personal soldier accompanying me."

Korra eyes narrow, but she is smiling. "Shut up."

"No, honestly. Although I can't quite see your sword from this angle..."

Korra laughs. "Alright, you can stop now. Can't I be protective over my friend?"

Aang frowns. "No."

"And why not?"

"Because _I _ought to be protective over _you_."

Korra's eyes widen. "How insulting! Why, because I'm a girl?"

"Exactly."

Korra scoffs. "May I remind you that I am a girl who is older than you-"

"That doesn't matter-"

"And taller-"

"Not true!"

"And I've got more muscles."

"_Hey_!"

Aang's eyes are wide and incredulous, and Korra bursts into laughter. Aang soon follows.

"Alright, most of that isn't true," Korra relents when the laughs subside. "While I may be older than you- alright, not by much! And you are taller, I will concede."

Aang smiles in satisfaction.

"It's just something Roku told me," Korra admits. "Before we left."

"Oh? What was it?"

"'Don't you lose him, Korra of the Southern Water Tribe,'" she says, imitating Roku. Her eyes soften. "And... well, I don't mean to."

Aang too is affected, and he swallows a lump that rises in his throat. "Yeah?"

"That's right." Korra coughs to clear her throat, then hits Aang on the shoulder. He laughs and tries to hit her back; the emotion is effectively dispelled. "Let's get moving."

Now, on the morning of the third day of travel, both waterbender and airbender are well-rested and well-fed; well, as well-rested and well-fed as one could be, considering the circumstances. The land flattens as they move closer to the base of the mountain, and this is a relief after the steep trails they'd traversed. For the first time in hours, things appear to be generally more positive; that is, until Aang suddenly stops walking. Korra, a few feet ahead, turns her head and looks at him for explanation.

"This is it," says Aang.

"This is what?" asks Korra.

Aang takes in a breath. "One more step, and it'll be the furthest away from home I've ever been."

Korra attempts to smile bracingly. "I don't think it'll be all that bad," she says. "I've certainly liked every time I travelled far from home."

Aang raised a brow dubiously, certain she was saying the words for his benefit. "And why is that?"

She smiles again, and this time it is a natural and brilliant smile. "Because every time I've left home, it brought me to you."

Aang's lip curls in that sort of smile that cannot be fully formed because it is simply too heavy with emotion. He is reduced to a nod, but Korra senses his appreciation. She claps him on the back. "Aren't you glad I came with you? It seems I'm reducing you to a sobbing mess every day."

"Yes," Aang says, ignoring her sarcasm. "I'm glad you're with me."

* * *

Jinora and Ikki pull their gliders out from the closet where they keep them, cursing their stupidity for not having thought of this before.

"I can't believe we didn't think of this before," Jinora laments, for the umpeenth time.

"That's alright, sister. Grief slows the brain," Ikki answers, both teasingly and seriously.

"We've looked everywhere for him, and we were so sure he was hiding," Jinora says, mostly speaking to herself- as she often did when she is sorting out her thoughts. "But it never occured to us that he might have _left_."

Ikki, in the process of donning a cloak to shield her from the chill of the night, pauses in her movements. "Do you really think he's gone?"

Jinora looks back at her sister; Ikki's grey eyes are wide with something akin to fear. Jinora takes Ikki's hand and squeezes it. "No- no, he's definitely not gone."

Ikki nods and fans out her glider. Jinora does the same, and she is the first to leap out of the window. Ikki follows. The sisters search the winding trails of the mountain with their eyes, and it is so that they come upon Aang and Korra.

"_Aang_!" Ikki cannot control the shriek that leaves her as she spots his head. "Oh, Jinora, don't tell me to be quiet- we're at the base of the mountain, nobody can hear us! And look, it's him, it's Aang!"

She immediately lands, rushes to him, and - mindless of the bread roll he's cradling in his hands- embraces him. Jinora lands more calmly, but when Ikki finally pulls away, her embrace is just as fierce.

"It's really you," Ikki says, and her tone is uncharacteristically subdued and timid. "How... how are you?"

"I'm..." He starts to say _fine_ or _alright_, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he shrugs, and Ikki nods as though in emphatic understanding, her eyes wet.

"What are you two doing here?" Korra cuts in.

"We were looking for Aang," answers Jinora. "We... we wanted to make sure he was alright, and-"

"Oh, Aang, we're so so sorry," Ikki bursts out, tears streaming down her face now. "It's horrible. Spirits, we're so sorry..."

Aang says nothing, but Jinora steps forward and wraps her arms around her sister's thin shoulders. Nobody speaks until Ikki's tears are subdued.

"Does everyone know?" Aang asks quietly.

"Yes," says Jinora. "We were worried. Roku wouldn't tell anyone what you were really doing- he just said that you knew, and that you and Korra decided that a little trip was in order, and that you were alright- but nothing more. Your parents are worried," she added, turning to Korra.

Korra winces. "_Really_ worried?"

Jinora shifts on her feet, unsure of how to answer. "Well, they know you can take care of yourself, I guess..."

Korra sighs. "I should have told them. Before I left."

"You've got to do it," Aang says, directing his speech to his cousins. "You've got to tell Senna and Tonraq that you've talked to Korra, and she's okay. Korra, maybe you can give them a note?..."

"Please stop," Ikki interjects, not kindly.

Aang raises a brow. "What?"

"You're trying to get rid of us," Jinora supplies, also affronted. "It's not going to work."

"Wherever you're going, we're coming with you," Ikki declares.

Aang doesn't need to think; he immediately shakes his head in protest. "No way. You're not coming with us."

"And why not?" Ikki crosses her arms over her chest.

Aang mentally counts off the reasons, trying to pick one to begin with; and, finding them too many, sighs in exasperation. "There's just no way."

"Do you even know where you're going?" Jinora says shrewdly, eyes narrowed. "You've never left the mountain."

"What, and you have?"

Both Ikki and Jinora nod. Aang looks at them incredulously, to which Ikki shrugs. "We get bored sometimes."

"We're going to Jangor," Korra says, ignoring the furious look Aang shoots her. "It's a-"

"Small village, not far from here," Jinora cuts in. "We know how to get there."

Aang lets his shoulders sag. "Come on. Don't make me do this."

"There's not much to be done," Ikki says cheekily. "That's the point of us coming, you know. Less on you."

Aang sighs, exasperated. "I can't let you come!"

"Why not?"

"It isn't safe."

"Come now, Aang. What could possibly happen?" Ikki skips forward, then stops and points a finger. "It's this way."

She moves in the direction she indicated, her glider bouncing against her leg. Jinora follows, shrugging at Aang as though saying that she cannot help Ikki's mannerisms; Aang narrows his eyes and lifts a brow, knowing full well that she can. Finally, it is a push from Korra that sends him walking, although putting his cousins in danger is something he has yet to accept.

* * *

On the helm of a ship heading south, a lone figure stands, arched as though seeking answers from the sky.

He is close to his destination, although it doesn't quite feel like he's moving quickly enough. He recalls the urgency in the letter he's received days ago. He recalls resting briefly in the village of Jangor once, years and years ago; when he was on an entirely different journey, when he was an entirely different man.

Glancing at the dark rippling water, he wills the ship to move faster. It is an Earth Kingdom ship, belonging to merchants; and although he is the sort of man who rarely seeks favors from others, and even more rarely from men who may remember his face, he was quick to offer his services to this batch of men if they would but carry him south. It was the only immediate passage he could find, and he could not delay. Besides, he only needs them to get across the water. As soon as he reaches land, he will make his own path. The forces of fate have never felt this strong. He's never felt his destiny so actutely as he does now, as he did when he recieved that fateful letter from Roku.

He worries again that they might remember his face- it is not one easily forgotten. He has managed to keep his features well-hidden thus far; a hood, a hat. They could only catch wayward glimpses of a burn, and that was easily explainable. A Fire Nation soldier had cut him down, obviously. He, too, has suffered at the hands of those flame-wielding fiends. It makes him more relatable. He grins wryly at the irony.

"Zuko?"

He whips around; although he knows it's her, although he knows that she is the only one who knows him by his given name, his shoulders tense. He forces them to unknot, but his expression remains stern.

"You shouldn't call me by that name," he says. "Not here."

"Don't be so dramatic."

"Mai, please." He is not accustomed to having steady company on one of his journeys, especially one as imporant as this. So far, it is not proving to be an entirely convenient thing- although he does care for Mai, his oldest childhood friend.

"You call me by my name," she retorts, eyes glittering in the dark. "Why can't I call you by yours?"

Zuko stifles an impatient sigh. "All right, _Shila_- my sister. Those are the disguises we wear, and we must keep them if we're to reach the south."

Mai stiffens at the mention of the word "sister"; but other than that, she maintains her stoic expression. "You have yet to tell me what was in that letter. What is it that's so urgent?"

"Why? Are you regretting your decision to come with me?" As soon as he utters it, Zuko regrets his own question; the last thing he wants is to discuss why it is that Mai chose to accompany him. He explicitly asked her not to; despite, or perhaps because of, how much he cares for her.

Mai rolls her eyes. "You know I'm not. I'm curious."

Zuko's gaze moves to the water, his thoughts turning to the contents of the letter. The One Ring has been found; so Roku told him, and Zuko did not doubt Roku for a second. His uncle, Iroh, never found a reason to doubt Roku in all his life, and it was so that Zuko placed his trust in him. But with the rise of this new power comes an infinite series of questions- and many of them, he suspects, would involve him. It is that part that frightens him. It was such questions that drove him into a life of exile years ago. A part of him fears- or, rather, _knows_- that when such questions rise again, he will return to that life. He will run. But until then, he will allow destiny to drive him. He will go to Jangor to meet Roku and the Ring-bearer, this airbender named Aang.

"Zuko?"

He turns to look at her. The familiarity of her face warms him. "You ought to sleep. You look pale."

Mai scoffs. "I'm always pale. We both are."

"Go to sleep. Go ahead, I'll follow in a minute."

She does not move until Zuko squeezes her shoulder and urges her forward again. With uncertain steps, she disappears from his sight, and Zuko returns to his nocturnal meditation.

It is unusual for him to be awake at night; the fire in his blood prefers the sun. But a sense of purpose battles with his nature. Zuko wonders if this will become something common.

From down below, he hears the clamor of men. Zuko pulls the hood of his cloak over his head. His fingers graze the rough skin of his scar, but it does not hurt. The pain that was once acute has faded over the years; the bitterness, not so much.

Chasing such negative thoughts from his head, Zuko casts one last look at the water before returning to where he slept, knowing he would not find rest that night.

* * *

Not long after Jinora and Ikki join them, Korra and Aang decide to rest for the night. Food is unpacked and presented. Some bruised fruit remains. The small amount of bread remaining with them is no longer fresh, nearly inedible. Aang discourages against cooking rice, and so they settle for the fruit and bread, content to be resting their feet.

It is in this way Aang is sitting, a few feet from the road Ikki indicated initially with some bread in his mouth, when he hears a distant but unmistakeable sound of hooves.

He swallows the thick lump of bread and turns to his friends. "I think we should get off the road."

"We _are_ off the road," Ikki says, before taking a huge bite from an apple.

Aang is about to explain what it is he feels and hears- some seed of uncertainty and the pitter-patter of hooves- when he hears it. The world before him seems to shrink, and it is flushed into a dark void, and from that void comes a sound, a horrible, terrible, piercing sound, an unearthly sound that screams of destruction and fire and _pain_-

He turns slowly to look at his friends, with wide, incredulous eyes, slack-jawed; still they eat and talk, unperturbed. How could they? How could they not respond at all to that shriek that could have only come from the very pits of suffering?

Korra is the first to catch his expression, and she immediately lowers the bread in her hand from her mouth.

Impossibly, Aang finds his voice. "Get off the road!" His cousins scramble to their feet and start to move, responding to the alarm in his voice and his eyes. "Hide! Quick!"

They stumble forward, tripping over their feet in their haste, trying to find a good place to hide. Jinora finds it, a large gap in the roots of a rotting tree. She points, and the group rushes in that direction, squeezing themselves into the hole. Just as they deem themselves safely hidden, and sit with trembling breaths, the sound of hooves becomes more distinct.

Leaves in the grass behind them rustle. They shift with every movement of the animal's hooves, as viscous as water. Aang can hear the fluttering breaths of his friends; they are loud in his ears, too loud, or maybe he was just listening to himself. Behind them, the rider dismounts. His feet land on the ground softly, but Aang still hears it. One moment, he can hear everything acutely, and the next he can't hear anything. There is a terrifying bubble of silence; then it is pierced by the same shriek he heard before, but different, muted and muffled and _concentrated_.

It is coming from the Ring. This is obvious now, and he wonders how he ever could have misplaced it. The sound is coming from his pocket, a shrill bell, calling to him. He, of course, must answer- there is no other possibility, no other course of action- and so he does. Unaware of his eyelids slipping closed, of his shallow breaths, Aang gives into the throbbing need, his hand moving towards his pocket.

He draws the Ring. The silky feel of it against his fingertips is akin to a man who quenches his thirst. Something above him, in another universe, feels hot. He is about to pull the Ring over his finger when something claps against his hand, hard.

The small, constant shriek breaks off. All Aang can hear is his breath in his ears. He opens his eyes and looks down at the interruption, eyes bleary and slightly puzzled. Korra's tanned hand is holding his against his chest, her grip tight. He can feel the band that is the Ring pressed against his shirt. He looks up at Korra; her eyes are wide and stern.

The rider is still behind them; Aang can feel the heat he emanates. A firebender, undoubtedly. Roku's words ring in his ears: "Never put it on. The agents of your enemy will be drawn to its power, and your location will be revealed. Remember, Aang... the Ring wants to be found." He is suddenly unbelievably grateful for Korra.

The heat above them does not budge. Ikki, on the far left, grows tired of this constant anxiety. She slowly and soundlessly bends, picking up a rock, and- ignoring the way Jinora fervently shakes her head- throws it onto the path, where it clatters against something hard.

Now the heat of the rider pulls back, and there is a grunt from the animal he rides as he climbs over it. Aang winces as he hears the piercing shriek again; by the expressions on the faces of his friends, he can tell that they hear it this time, too. There is a swift _whoosh_ and sound of clattering metal as the rider disappears down the path.

Only when there is no remaining sound or trace of the rider does the group pull itself out of the root. Korra is the first; she clears her surroundings first before extending a helping hand to Aang. Slightly dizzy, Aang holds onto her hand as he stands. Ikki and Jinora are paler than usual.

"What... was that?" Ikki stumbles over her words. None of them miss her use of the word "what" and not "who".

"I don't know," Aang answers truthfully. His head is pounding.

"That... that _soldier_ was looking for something," Jinora claims. Her eyes are narrowed and alert. "Or some_one_."

Aang and Korra exchange a glance, but say nothing.

"Why are you going to Jangor, Aang?" Ikki's voice is soft. "What are you doing there?"

Aang hangs his head. When he looks up, he meets Korra's eyes; she shrugs, conveying to him that whatever will happen must be his decision. He sighs, then begins to speak.

When he is finished, Jinora is fiddling with her glider, staring at a particularly interesting spot on the ground. Ikki has already sunk to the ground, hugging her knees, wide eyes watching Aang as he concludes his story.

"I know this must all sound unbelievable," Aang says, conscious of their reactions. "But it's the truth. I don't know how else to say it."

"They believe you," Korra says. "That's not the issue, I'm sure. But we must get moving. We've been still for too long."

Jinora nods. "If we keep moving, we can be at Jangor before morning."

Aang agrees with this plan, ignoring the weariness in his limbs. "Roku is meeting us at Jangor. We'll be safe."

Korra's lips form a grim line; her eyes are still scanning their surroundings . "Let's go, then."

* * *

Very little time passes before the riders make a reappearance.

To Aang, it feels as though they've only just pulled themselves from the hole in the rotting tree when he hears them again. There is more than one this time- the shrieks are distinctly seperate, overlapping hideously.

Ikki claps her hands over her ears. "Aang! They're behind us!"

Korra immediately begins to run. The rest follow; as Aang sprints as quickly as he is able, slightly behind Korra, his glider clenched in his fist, he chances a glance behind him. There are definitely more than one rider- in the night, he can make out three.

"We can outrun them if we get to the river!" Jinora yells, shifting her direction. Without thinking, the rest follow. They weave through the trees, panting, the shrieks of the riders behind them only getting louder and nearer.

Suddenly, one shriek is impossibly close. Panic thrums in Aang's ears, but he only pushes himself harder, running with a speed he didn't know he could reach.

"_Jinora_!" The small pant is full of desperation. "How... much.. further?"

No answer reaches him; instead, he watches Jinora unfold her glider and leap into the sky. Cursing himself for his stupidity at not having thought of it earlier, Aang does the same. He feels a tremendous relief as soon as his feet leave the ground, which is only intensified when the riders release their inhuman shrieks. Somehow, he knows they are shrieks of frustration.

"Korra! Take my ankles!" He lowers himself as much as he dares; a second later, he feels her take firm hold of him. Relieved, he rises and flies in the same direction as Jinora and Ikki.

When they land on the other side of the river, short of breath, they have a clear view of the riders. They ride great black beasts with horns at the snout, the likes of which none of them have ever seen before. Their armor is made entirely of metal, down to the last finger; not one scrap of cloth can be seen. Aang counts ten of them, riding down the opposite end of the bank, emmitting final shrieks that eventually fade.

"That was smart, Jinora," Korra says as soon as the riders are out of sight, and it feels safe to speak again.

"All bad things are opposed to water," Jinora shrugs.

"Yeah," Ikki agrees. "I don't think they were firebenders, even though firebenders aren't too fond of water either. They were.. a bit... unnatural."

The rest of them exchange glances. "Unnatural" is a euphemism for the beastly things they've encountered. "How far to the nearest crossing?" Aang asks.

"I'm not sure," Jinora frowns. "But it's a long distance."

Aang secured the straps of the pack on his shoulders. "Come on. We should go to the inn."

The sisters lead the way, Aang and Korra trailing slightly behind. Korra taps Aang's arm, somewhat timidly. "You alright?"

Aang nods, managing a smile for her sake. In truth, he feels drained- from the physical exertion the day demanded of him, from both encounters from the riders, from the odd pull of the Ring. He can't recall much of the incident of the hole in the tree; but he knows that is part of the problem. It is as though the Ring momentarily robbed him of his will.

"We'll be at the inn soon," Korra assures him. And she is right; only minutes later, they come upon a short wooden gate.

"Jangor," Jinora whispers. "Pull up your hoods."

They do so. A slot in the wood opens; two narrowed eyes examine them through it. "Kids, eh? What is your business here?"

"We've come to stay at the inn," Korra says, a bit forcefully. "Our business is our own."

The man behind the gate grunts and moves back. "Alright, little lady, I meant no offense." The door in the gate is pulled open. "It's my job to ask questions after nightfall."

Korra, Aang, Jinora, and Ikki move through the gate, coming upon the streets of Jangor. Although it is night, many people- or, rather, many men- patrol the narrow streets, talking with each other, laughing, arguing, or keeping to themselves and performing small jobs. Everyone seems to be, simply put, dirty; as are the buildings. They are all made of thin wood, almost insubstantial, and in many cases delapitated. As the group shuffles down the street, many villagers pause in their words and their work to leer at them.

Jinora shudders. "I believe I am frightened."

At that, Korra stifles a giggle. "A group of inhuman beasts don't frighten you, but a group of unshaven men do?"

Jinora nods, missing the joke. "Let's just find the inn as soon as possible."

Ikki points ahead of her, to a sign hanging from the only brick building on the street. "There it is."

They hurry to the door, shuffling into the inn. Jinora breathes out in relief as the door closes shut behind her, but when she turns, she lets out a small squeak.

In front of her are multiple wooden tables, around which crowd numerous men of the most unsavory nature. In their hands are mugs and glasses and pipes and cigars, and they are all uninhibited in their manner; that is, they are drunk. The light is low and warm, coming only from lanterns fastened to the walls and candles fixed to the tables. On the far all is a counter, behind which are barrels of several sizes, which a man uses to dole out drinks.

"It's a tavern," Ikki says, eyes wide.

"Not quite," a deep voice says from their left; they all jump. A man wearing an odd hat walks over to them, holding up his hands and smiling. "This is the Inn of the Running Rabbaroo."

Jinora glances uneasily around her. "Right..."

"I'm the inkeeper. You're undoubtedly looking for accomodation," he declares, quite assuredly. "We have rooms of all sorts for you young folk."

"Actually, we're meeting a friend," Aang speaks up. "Roku, the firebender?"

The smile falls from the innkeeper's face, and he shuffles his feet. "Not many firebenders come through here."

"He does; he frequents the south. Roku, an old man, white beard..."

"Ah!" The smile returns to the innkeeper's face, and he snaps his fingers together. "Elderly chap, with the fantastic fireworks?"

Aang smiles, flooded with an unexpected relief. Roku is undoubtedly here. "Yes. Yes, that's him."

"Eh... haven't seen him for a few months."

Aang's expression falls. He exchanges uneasy glances with his friends.

"Perhaps you would like to wait for him in a room?" the innkeeper suggests brightly.

Jinora nods frantically, but Aang shakes his head. "No, thank you. We'll wait for him here."

"Hmm. As you like." He leads them to a square table behind a pole. Aang almost falls into his chair, glad to rest his feet despite the circumstances.

The rowdiness around them continues, while their small silence begins to make them feel uneasy. Finally, Korra speaks. "What do you think we should do?"

"Wait for him," Aang replies swiftly. "There's nothing else we _can _do."

"Hmm." They fall into silence again. Minutes later, Ikki and Jinora fall into whispered conversation. Aang continues to stare straight ahead of him.

"My uncle just died." He says it in a murmur, concealed by his breath.

Korra, who was starting to nod off, snaps out of the slight spell of sleep. "Hmm?"

Aang chances a glance at her; he is reluctant to do so, because he feels tears stinging the backs of his eyelids. "My uncle's just died," he repeats, more loudly. "What am I doing here?"

Jinora and Ikki, who can hear this small plea, exchange a glance, eyes wide and helpless.

But Korra takes Aang's hands in her own, firmly. "You're making sure it doesn't happen to anyone else's uncle."

"But why is that my job?" Aang's tone has grown more heated, and his eyes fall to the pocket that contains the Ring. "It's not my burden to bear."

Korra shakes her head solemnly. "It is now."

"Roku will come," Jinora dares to cut in. Aang looks over at her, and he admires her in that moment for the assurance in her deep brown eyes- an assurance that is there despite the discomfort he knows she feels.

"I'm going to get a drink," Ikki announces. Jinora shoots her a glare.

Ikki shrugs and glares back, then rises from the table. Jinora sighs. "Just water, Ikki," she warns.

"Alright," Ikki concedes, moving away from the table.

Jinora watches her reach the counter. She watches her talk to the man who stands behind it, and when she is assured that nobody seems to be bothering her, she turns back to her friends. Stuck by a sudden memory, she smiles. "Aang."

"What?"

"Do you remember when Ikki got her tattoos?"

Aang chuckles. "I _remember_ she was late. She almost didn't get them."

"Really? Why?" asks Korra.

"She thought it was the next day," Jinora supplies.

Behind them, a group of men break out into a jolly song. The smile is wiped off Jinora's face.

"I must admit, I feel quite exposed," Jinora says, frowning. "I don't... I don't think this is the sort of place for women."

"Maybe you should say so to Ikki," Korra says, a grin tugging at her mouth. Jinora's frown deepens before she turns around and catches sight of her sister, standing at the counter and talking with multiple men, her hood no longer covering her head and an over-filled mug in her hand.

"_Ikki_!" Face flushed, Jinora rushes to her sister, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her to the table.

"Jinorrrra, calm _down_," Ikki slurs.

Jinora firmly seats her, pushing her chair so close to the table that the edge of it digs into Ikki's ribs.

"Ow."

"I cannot believe you, Ikki!"

"Ikki, Ikki, my hands are sticky," Ikki sings drunkedly.

"Well, that's what you get for drinking- drinking- _intoxicants _and cavorting with leery men!"

Ikki holds up a hand, as though in protest. "That was _ale_, not intoxic... tox.. intox..."

Korra cannot help but laugh, which earns her a glare from Jinora.

Korra shrugs. "I'm sorry, it's not often that I get to watch a drunk airbender."

Jinora crosses her arms over her chest. "This is a very serious business. We can't lose sight of that."

Sobering, Korra nods. "Right. Of course. Speaking of serious... that man's done nothing but stare at Aang since we've arrived." Korra indicates who she means with a nod of her head.

"Is your hood pulled up well enough?" Jinora asks, worriedly.

Aang turns slowly, eyes searching for the man who Korra meant. He is sitting in the corner; tall, broad of shoulder and chest, clothed in obscure dark colors. A hood throws his face into shadow.

The innkeeper approaches; Aang pulls at his sleeve. "Excuse me."

He pulls back, bending low to talk to them. "Mhm?"

"Who is that man? There, in the corner?"

The innkeeper glances over his shoulder. "Ah. That's one of them rogue folk... always roaming the lands and seas of the four nations, never staying in one place. I've never seen him before- perhaps he was here, and I was just too drunk to notice... I drink quite a bit. Oh, pardon me, madams. But I've heard of him. They call him Lee."

"Seems a bit lonely, doesn't he?" says Aang, his gaze fixed on the dark figure. Somehow he knew his words were true.

The innkeeper shrugs. "Folk without a home always are."

As the innkeeper walks away from Aang, he almost bumps into Ikki, who is putting all of her energy into pushing her body forward, despite the fact that Jinora's arms are tightly encircling her waist.

"Let me goooo..."

"_No_, Ikki, you can't dance!"

Jinora stares entreatingly at Aang. "Can you please hold her for a minute? I need some water... my throat is unbearably dry."

Aang moves so that he is the one restraining Ikki. Jinora nods gratefully at him and makes her way to the counter.

"Can I dance, Aang?"

"No."

"Please, Aangy?"

Korra laughs. "_Aangy_?"

Aang smiles despite himself. "Shut it."

"I'm going to sing, Aangy."

Aang's eyes widen. "_What_?"

Ikki draws in a deep breath before breaking into song. "_The liiight is dim, and the air is thin..._"

"Oh, Ikki, no..." Korra groans, not sure if she should be dismayed or delighted at this display.

"I, uh, I forgot the next line..." Ikki giggles, then breaks into song again. "_But from where I hail, come no tall tales, just mountain peaks against the skyyy..._"

"Ikki, stop," Aang says. Korra echoes this, now stern; men have started to abandon their conversation and gather around them to watch the drunk little girl sing.

"That's an airbending song, that is," a man in the crowd decalres.

"No, it isn't," Korra is quick to say, looking at Aang with alarm.

"_And when the wind blows-"_

"That's enough." Aang tries to force Ikki to quiet, but she only glares at him.

"Hey, you interrupted me," Ikki protests, nose scrunching.

"Right. Now, Ikki, please be quiet..."

"Oi, she's got an arrow," one of the men says, pointing. "Do you have an arrow too? You airbenders?"

Aang shoves Ikki's hood back onto her head; out of the corner of his eye, he watches the man in the corner rise. He swallows. "No. We're not."

"I think they're airbenders!" A man steps forward and yanks Aang's hood from his head. A cheer rises in the crowd as his tattoos are revealed.

"Hey!"

"What's an airbender lying about being an airbender for, eh? You a spy?"

The din of voices rises, now angry. A pair of strong hands land on his shoulders, pulling him away from Ikki; he tries to protest, but suddenly he is faced with a wall of men.

"You a spy, boy?"

"A bunch of kids in an inn, so far from home..."

"They're not kids! This one's a man!"

"Doesn't have a beard, though... can airbenders grow beards?"

"_And when the wind blows, I know... I know I've come home!..._"

Another set of hands on his shoulders draw him away from the crowd; Aang looks up gratefully, expecting to see Korra, but is met with a pair of golden eyes, one significantly narrower than the other. He gasps.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, airbender," the man hisses; the man from the corner, Aang realizes. Lee. He struggles against his grip, trying to free himself, but it is of no use.

"No use in fighting me," Lee says. His voice is low and raspy. "I am not your foe."

The words to not comfort Aang; he continues to struggle. The man begins to pull him away from the general crowd of the tavern. Aang looks to the right and sees a staircase, and then he begins to truly panic. He looks around wildly for his friends and can't find them; he opens his mouth to scream, but a hand is clamped over it.

"Must you draw more attention to yourself?" The man drags Aang up the short flight of steps, then opens a door and throws him into a room. As soon as he is released, he makes for the door; but the man has locked it, and in his hand he holds the key.

Warily, Aang turns around. The man is now ignoring him, moving around the room to turn out the candles that burn. The room is cast into further darkness. Aang draws the edges of his cloak around him more securely; he decides he will airbend if he has to defend himself, throwing caution and disguise to the winds.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"For you to be more careful," the man answers easily. "That is no trinket you carry."

Aang feels his heart drop into his stomach; how can this man know of the Ring? "I carry nothing."

"Indeed." His voice drips with sarcasm as he moves to the windows, pulling the curtains shut. He then steps back, turns and faces Aang, and pulls back his hood.

The man is pale, with sharp features and dark hair; but Aang notices none of this, not at first. It is the scar that attracts his immediate attention. It covers nearly half of his face, swallowing his left eye. The ruined skin is dark ridges over his eyelid, forcing it somewhat shut.

Aang knows he shouldn't stare, but he can't help himself. "Who are you?"

The man takes a small step forward. "Are you frightened?"

Aang cannot find it in himself to lie, not even to maintain a necessary facade. "Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you."

Aang realizes that this man- this _Lee_- hasn't answered his question. "Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is who you are- Aang of the Southern Air Temple."

His eyes widen. "How do you know my name?"

The man pulls something from a pocket in his cloak. He unfolds a small scroll, very heavily creased. He hands it to Aang. "In that letter, you will see that I'm a friend- that's all you need to know."

Aang reads the letter, his eyes growing wider and wider. Just as he is about to reach the end, the door to the room bursts open. Lee leaps forward, shoving Aang behind him and baring his fists.

"Let him go." Korra stands in front of Ikki and Jinora, her mouth in a grim line, water whips at her side.

"No- no, it's okay." Aang moves from behind Lee, holding up the scroll. "It's a letter from Roku."

Korra lets her hands drop, the water whips splashing against the floor. Jinora moves forward. "From Roku? What does it say?"

"It's asking _him_-" Here, Aang points at the man. "-to come meet us here."

"Why didn't he come?" Korra asks.

"I don't know," Aang frowns. "It doesn't say."

"Roku was supposed to meet us here," the man supplies. "But he must have been delayed, for whatever reason. We cannot wait for him. We must leave Jangor with all haste."

"We will not," Korra protests. She narrows her eyes. "I don't trust him."

"Regardless of your feelings towards me, we can't linger," the man says, unperturbed by her words. "You've drawn too much attention to yourselves."

Korra scoffs. "A bunch of drunken men can hardly do us any harm."

"Perhaps- but many of these drunken men are citizens of Jangor. They will return to their homes and talk of how a group of airbenders were spotted at the inn." The man's expression turns grim. "You'll be found in no time."

"I want to wait for Roku," Aang insists.

"We can't."

"How do we even know Roku wrote that letter?" Korra cuts in. "_He_ may have written it himself."

The man's eyes narrow; he glares at Korra, obviously irritated with her. "We must leave Jangor. _Now_."

"I can't!" Aang cries. The man's arguments seem persuasive, but he cannot find it in himself to follow a man he has just met, regardless of what sort of letter he carries. "I can't go. I have to wait for Roku. I must."

"Do you know what it is that hunts you?"

The airbenders and Korra fall silent. The man smiles wryly, somewhat glad that they are finally listening to him.

"They are the Hi-Nánrén: the men of fire, neither living nor dead. Nothing about them is human. They are a body of flame with spirit, though they are without will." The man pauses. "No, they are slaves to _his_ will. To the Fire Lord's. They are his servants, and they do not rest. They will never stop hunting you."

His words have an obvious effect on them. They seem altogether more subdued.

"I wish we could wait for Roku," he goes on. "But we can't. We can stay in the village until morning, and if Roku has not appeared by first light, we will leave."

Aang breathes in deeply, steadying his nerves. "Alright."

Jinora takes an uncertain step towards the bed in the corner; she is supporting a half-asleep Ikki on her arm. "Will we be staying in this room?"

"No. We must leave the inn," the man declares. "It isn't safe."

* * *

That night, Zuko takes his newly acquired company of four to an abandoned house at the northern outskirts of Jangor. His intention was to depart from the village as quickly as possible, that very night, but it quickly becomes apparent to him that such a thing is impossible. One of the airbenders, the youngest, is entirely unable to stand on her feet, dozing in and out, and the rest of them look exhausted.

In the house is one large bed, the mattress thin and dotted with holes. The four of them collapse onto it and seem to immediately slip into sleep, leaving Zuko once again with only his own thoughts for company.

As soon as he sits down and stares out of the window, Zuko immediately regrets his solitude. The first thing his mind jumps to is how he abandoned Mai as soon as they made port, slipping away while she was asleep. He blushes at the thought. He should have at least spoken to her; said something, explained how Roku explicitly wanted _him_ and _him alone _to meet him in Jangor. Instead, he slinked away like a thief in the night. He comforts himself by remembering Roku's insistence that he show up alone, and tells himself that Mai is more than capable of taking care of herself. _That_ isn't the problem, and he knows it- Mai has proven herself as capable as a man. He knows that the real problem is the way in which he left her, suddenly and for no fault on her part. It wasn't the proper way to treat a life-long friend.

Again, he blushes.

Sighing at the unpleasant direction of his thoughts, Zuko lies down on the hard floor and attempts to drown them in oblivion.

* * *

Traveling with Zuko proves most interesting.

Before, when the company of friends from the Southern Air Temple traveled on their own, things were quite different. While they didn't exactly walk _liesurely_, they moved at a comfortable pace. Zuko, on the other hand, is very quick. Before, they took two or three breaks in the midst of their walk; Zuko stops only once a day, and that is to eat and then sleep. The presence of a stranger among them also diffuses their conversation, which was unabashed beforehand. They try, at first, to whisper amongst themselves, but quickly discover that their conversation is not as private as they think.

It is Ikki who begins it. When Zuko is a sizable distance ahead and she is sure he cannot hear her, she says: "I'm hungry."

Jinora shakes her head and sighs. "No point in saying anything to _him_. He's like a wall. Inpenetrable."

Aang nods. "Only stops at nightfall."

"Well, I'm still hungry!"

Jinora shakes her head and sighs again.

Ikki pouts and crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't like him."

Korra speaks up. "Neither do I."

Aang looks at her with surprise. Korra's expression doesn't budge. "What? I don't think we can trust him."

"Why?"

"Are you joking?" Korra says incredulously. "He's a stranger! We don't know him."

"We know that Roku trusts him."

"No, we don't... alright, fine, why do _you_ think we can trust him?"

Aang pauses. His eyes move from Korra to the back of the man of whom they were speaking. Zuko is not wearing the cloak, and so the back of his head is visible; he shifts, and Aang glimpses the edges of a ruined ear. Aang turns back to Korra.

"It's his scar, I think."

Korra's eyes widen, incredulously. "His _scar_ makes you think you can trust him?"

"I think the opposite reaction is the natural one, Aang," Jinora cuts in, her tone slightly worried.

Aang frowns at them both. "I just think it means he's had his share of hardship; that's all. You don't get a scar like that by staying at home... he's a warrior."

Ikki rolls her eyes. "Which only means he can hurt us- _really_ hurt us, Aang."

Aang shakes his head. "Someone who was trying to trick us would look fairer. He'd be sly, and clever, and try to trick us. If anything, he's only been abrupt and rude. And honest."

Korra says nothing, returning her eyes to the path. It is clear that she isn't in complete agreement with Aang's words, but no longer wishes to pursue the subject.

"Either way," says Ikki. "I don't think we have much of a choice."

"Where do you think he's taking us?" Jinora wonders aloud.

The four of them jump when Zuko is the one who answers. "The Northern Water Tribe."

After that, nobody speaks much. Whether that is in shame at being overheard or awe at the thought of journeying to the far north, none of them are quite sure.

The pattern continues that night, when Zuko dictates the time and place of their rest. He bends by the bank of the lake, dipping his hand into it, his face grim. "This water... it was once the home of a certain sort of fish that could be found nowhere else in the world. They've died out."

He stands. "Regardless. We will rest here tonight."

Relieved, the members of the small group rest their feet and fill their stomachs. Jinora, Ikki, and Korra quickly succumb to sleep. Aang lies flat on his back and closes his eyes, an imitation of sleep that he hopes will morph into the real thing. Before he knows it, a strange sound pierces his consciousness. A low, steady hum- barely rising, barely falling, inexplicably sad.

He realizes Zuko is singing.

Aang sits up. The hum abruptly stops. Zuko, who's back was turned to Aang, faces him. His eyes immediately narrow. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Aang shrugs. "You were singing."

Even in the darkness, Aang can see the blush that suffuses Zuko's face. "No I wasn't."

"Yes you were."

"I was _not_."

Though he can't determine exactly why, Aang is amused. "I heard you."

Zuko scoffs. "I do not sing. I don't. It's not something that I do."

Still smiling, Aang shrugs again. "Alright."

Zuko nods, still red. "Alright, then."

"Who is she?"

Seemingly irritated that the conversation is ongoing, Zuko lets out an impatient huff. "Who is who?"

"The woman in the song."

Zuko sighs, conceding. He turns his back to Aang before answering. "_She_ is a spirit. The spirit of the moon."

Aang waits expectantly, but Zuko does not speak again. "Why does the song sound so sad?" Aang prompts.

Zuko turns to look at Aang, then turns round again before answering. "The song of anyone with power is sad."

This answer crawls under Aang's skin. He frowns. "Why?"

"Because the world has gifted them," Zuko says. "They have a debt to pay."

"Why?" Aang says again, angry. "Who makes it so?"

Zuko's lip curls. "Destiny," he answers, and it is in this that he places his faith. He turns to look at Aang; Aang is still frowning. "History, proof, logic. I hardly know... get some sleep."

Aang concedes, resting his head on a patch of earth, and closes his eyes, his head filling with the echoes of Zuko's solemn song.

* * *

He awakes to a certain high-pitched note that could only belong to Jinora's chiding.

"I told you shouldn't have! Spirits, Ikki, didn't I _tell_ you?"

"I was cold," comes Ikki's meek defense. "And I thought it was a clever idea!"

"_How could you possibly think it was a clever idea_? A _fire_?! It's basically a beacon in this darkness, and we do not want to be found! Or have you forgotten that?!"

Stirring awake as the urgency of the situation becomes apparent to him, Aang sits up. A pang of dizziness hits him at the sudden movement; he takes a moment to rest his head in his hands, attempting to clear it.

"What happened?"

"Ikki thought it would be clever to start a fire."

Aang opens his eyes. He sees the remnants of a fire, a few glowing embers in the dirt. "Just put it out completely.. come now, put it out!"

Ikki's face is contorted, as though she is about to cry. "I'm sorry, alright?"

Aang is about to reply to her when he hears it. The shriek of the inhuman things, the Hi-Nánrén, the Men of Fire.

Jinora's jaw drops. Ikki's lower lip begins to tremble. "Spirits. Oh, spirits."

Aang shocks himself by moving. He dumps water onto the embers of the fire, scans his darkened field of vision. "Where's Lee?"

"He left earlier to find something," Ikki tells them. "Some sort of food, I think."

"Wake Korra," Aang instructs. "And stay quiet. I'm going to find him."

"No." Ikki reaches for Aang's arm, fastens herself to it. Her eyes, turned up to him, are huge and beseeching. "Don't leave us, Aang. Please. Please don't."

Although he has no intention of leaving them, intending only to search a few feet in every direction to see if Lee is near, Aang softens. He is barely aware of his thudding heart as he clasps his cousin's hand reassuringly. "I won't."

"What should we do? Should we run?" Jinora whispers. Korra, awake now, looks to Aang for his answer.

"No," says Aang; though he is loathe to admit that he isn't entirely sure. "We should stay quiet. Maybe they won't find us. If we run and attract attention to ourselves..."

He chooses to leave the sentence unfinished. They move so that they're standing together, huddled in a circle, their backs to each other, a band of misplaced children. Their arms are oustretched and trembling, ready to defend themselves and the others at a moment's notice.

"I wish Lee was here," Ikki whispers, despite herself.

"Don't worry," Korra reassures her, and Jinora echoes the sentiment by squeezing her sister's hand. _I'll protect you_, Jinora mouths, and Ikki lets herself smile.

They do not come as Aang expects them, with fire, but rather with a blow. Before any of the four can properly react, a sword bursts out of the shrubbery, its rider following. The sword catches Korra in the stomach, catapulting her into a tree behind her. She falls at the base of the tree and lies there motionless; Aang takes a step forward, jaw hanging, then rushes towards her.

"_Korra!_"

He has only taken two steps when the great beast impedes his path, steam protruding from its dark, engorged nostrils. Its rider's hand of metal is suddenly in front of Aang's face, and he barely has time to duck before a blade slices where his head just was.

Aang stands again, breathing hard. He bends a gust of air at the rider before him, but the rider only tightens his grip on his beast's reins. The movement leaves Aang drained, while the rider seems only slightly shaken.

Alarmed now, realizing for the first time that his bending may not be enough to save him and his friends, Aang takes a step back. He chances a glance at his cousins. Ikki and Jinora hold up bare fists bravely, but Ikki's shirt is torn, and Jinora's mouth bleeding. The Hi-Nánrén- five of them- begin to surround them, closing their circle, a second ring. They raise their swords high, their metal faces empty. Aang shoots a frantic glance at Korra, still motionless under the tree, panicking when he can't properly glimpse her face.

One of the riders lunges for Ikki- she jumps back, screaming, and Jinora leaps forth, teeth bared. But then two of the Hi-Nánrén part, permitting another iron-clad rider- though this one rides a different beast. They make room for this new, distinguished addition in their ranks, and Aang is taken aback when it- _she_- speaks.

"Not her," the sixth rider says, with a voice that is unmistakeably feminine. "It's with the boy."

Aang swallows. Somehow, this last woman frightens him on a level he does not believe he fully comprehends.

She dismounts and steps towards him. His breathing is incredibly loud in his ears. She holds out her hand.

"Give me the Ring."

And then, just like that, it returns; that hum, that muted shriek, that rhythm of life and death and pain and the promise of ecstacy. All thoughts are washed away by this new impulse, and his trembling fingers make their way into his pocket.

"_Aang_!"

Dimly, as though witnessing something in a dream from a dream, Aang watches Lee break into the ranks of the Hi-Nánrén; he watches him fight with two of them, his dao swords flaming, before the woman commands her forces to retreat.

Then it is the two of them; Lee and the woman clothed in metal. His cousins and Korra are a long-forgotten background. And there is the hum. The Ring.

For a while, there is nothing- no breath, no motion. But then the woman speaks. "I must admit, I am quite surprised- _Zuzu_."

Even in his stupor, Aang watches as Zuko's fierce expression falls apart, and all that is left is a vulnerability, as if everything he's known has been shattered. He watches Zuko's throat work as he tries to speak. "No. It can't be."

"Stole the words from the tip of my tongue." The woman raises her hands to her helmet, and with one movement removes it. She is pretty and pale, her hair blending into the night. "Alas, it is."

Zuko says nothing. The call of the Ring intensifies. Aang's fingers itch, inch forward.

"I am... really shocked to see you, to meet like this. I was under the impression that you'd disappeared."

Zuko grinds his teeth. "I had."

Oddly enough, the woman grins. "Not anymore." She begins to walk, pacing in a slow circle. "And what's this? Protecting the Ring-bearer?"

_You can do this, Aang. Remember what Roku said. Don't put it on. You can resist._

"My destiny is my own now," Zuko grits out. "Not yours, not my father's, to shape into whatever you will. I can choose whatever path I may."

"Pretty words." The words drip lazily from her mouth. "Tell me, brother. How best should I celebrate officially becoming an only child?"

"_Aang, don't_!"

It is Jinora who screams it. Aang's gaze is ripped from the others as the hum, the shriek, grows stronger, louder, and everything falls away, and he is not himself, but he is the Ring, and it is silky and smooth and safe and everything he needs and everything he wants and _oh yes, slip it on, just like that_-

The world melts into gray. Shadows and skeletons of fingers pull at every fiber of him, at his clothes and shoes and at his very _skin_, as though wishing to unravel him completely. Slack jawed, Aang can only stare at the dark hole he finds himself in- there is nothing, nothing, but the darkness and the pull.

But there it is- there, in his mind's eye, or maybe it's right before him, the great ball of fire, and there is destruction, and pain, so much pain-

_There is no life in the void._

Aang starts to scream, but he has no voice. Terrified, he searches the empty heavens for anything to save him, to pull him from this abyss, the Ring burning a band into his skin.

_Only. Death. _

Suddenly, a woman- made entirely of white. Her eyes are narrow, her lips dark and full. She stands before him- such a relief from that fire, such a relief- and extends her hand.

Automatically, his hand reaches for the Ring. He starts to slide it down his finger.

But the woman, that perfect glowing silhouette, turns away, her brows coming together and contorting her face with anger. Something has distracted her, something is fighting with her- some_one_.

_Lee. _The name comes to him as a memory from a dream.

Still, the woman prevails; and again, she extends her hand. Aang feels the urge to pull off the Ring, to ascend from the pool of darkness, to concede.

He does. The world returns into focus- the normal darkness cast by a night sky and pierced by stars. The woman still stands before him, expectant, and Aang finds himself gasping for air.

"Aang. Thank Agni. Don't give it to her."

"_Give it to me_, Ring-bearer."

There is a moment of indecision as the Ring attempts to work its sorcery. But the Ring doesn't win. Aang wrenches his hands apart from each other with a cry, tucks one behind his back. The effort forces him to fall to his knees, and he turns away from those watching him, filled with weariness and a strange shame.

Behind him, the woman's face contorts into a mask of rage. With a growl, she plants one foot in front of the other and raises one hand with two fingers extended. Zuko's eyes widen as he realizes what she is about to do, and he leaps for her.

He is too late.

Lightning emerges from her fingertips, hitting Aang squarely in the back. Zuko's body crashes into hers just as the burst of lightning is absorbed by the thin body, Aang's back going rigid as a board, his mouth falling open; then he collapses in on himself, going completely limp.

Zuko, making the mistake of watching this sequence unfold, does not secure his grip on his sister; she rolls away, leaps to her feet, and runs into the shrubbery. After a moment, Zuko pushes himself into a standing position. The world seems to move in a way that is exquisitely slow, a newfound despair growing in his heart as he turns to look at Aang. Both his cousins' bodies are hunched over his; Zuko can see Aang's closed eyes, and Korra's, and he curses himself for what he allowed to happen, for what he allowed to be lost.

Slowly, like a man walking in water, Zuko approaches the weeping sisters and the body they cover. Despite his shame and regret, despite the stench of his failure, Zuko knows what he must do next. As he reaches for Aang's limp body, his mind chooses to focus on a single image; the second before the lightning burst from his sister's fingertips, the cold grin that unfurled on her face.

* * *

_A/N_: I hope you liked it. Please review- reviews bring quicker updates!


	3. Flight to the Ford

_A/N: _I realize that it's been almost months since I gave you an update; don't hate me! This story is incredibly hard to write, and I was working on this chapter the entire time (as well as the rest of my works, I'll admit it, I get distracted). Buttt I bring you 16,000 words and a really eventful chapter with a bunch of new characters introduced, so I hope that makes up for it!

I'm also going to be answering questions at the end of the chapter from now on. Since I'm really pressed for time, and I want you to know I do value every one of your reviews even though I don't answer them, I thought I'd do this. So feel free to leave your questions in a review, and if the answer doesn't contain a spoiler I'll readily answer it! :)

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Flight to the Ford**

_Aang._

It's the first thought that permeates his consciousness just as he wakes. Roku opens his grimy eyes, wincing at the pain that only becomes fully realized in his waking hours. His forehead feels sticky. He brings a hand to it and it comes away red; he's forgotten he's bleeding.

A few moments pass before he becomes fully awake. When he does, the full truth of his state of being comes rushing back to him.

He rushed north, to the Si Wong desert, as soon as his business in the Southern Air Temple was done. He didn't waste time, doing only the bare minimum when it came to assuaging the airbenders who mourned after their loss. He hated himself for it, but he knew it was necessary. Before departing, he sent two letters; one to Iroh, a fellow firebender and the head of the Order of the White Lotus, and the other to his nephew.

His trip was generally uneventful. He found the library buried in the sand easily enough. Now that he'd found it once, it was easy to locate the tip of the ivory spire protruding from the sand. Still, he pulls a small illustration from the folds of his robe and reads the words written there:

萬知堂神祕图書館

"Wan Shi Tong's Mysterious Library," Roku said to himself. "Not so secret anymore."

Entering the library was easy enough. As he walked through the dark halls with their high cielings, Roku pretended that the truth of his words did not worry him. He also chose not to notice the very obvious absence of a certain cranky owl. There were more important things to take care of.

Roku made his way to the section with the information on the Fire Nation, but found his way blocked.

He took a step back, but quickly recomposed himself. "Zhao."

"_Admiral_ Zhao." The correction is made by a deep voice with a snarky undertone that was unique to the man. "What brings you here, firebender?"

Roku's lip curled. "You know my name. There's no point pretending otherwise."

Zhao shrugged, the heavy metal of his armor clinking. His slight smirk does not budge. "What brings you here, Roku?"

"I might ask you the same thing."

"You wouldn't get an answer," Zhao said, a reply Roku expected. "But, as you know, knowledge is priceless."

Roku nodded. "And what knowledge do you seek?"

Zhao did not answer, but posed a statement. "The hour is later than you think."

Roku's eyebrows rose. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I've come here on a quest," he answered. "A quest dictated to me by the very enemy you've come here in a weak attempt to challenge. I'll admit that in my time here, I have been seduced by the great wealth of knowledge in this place. I've learned a number of things." He paused significantly, his dark eyes boring into Roku's. "I know the Ring has been found."

Though he felt panic growing within him, Roku's expression did not reveal anything. In fact, he didn't entertain the point at all, but posed another question. "What was your quest?"

"Abandon your mission." For the first time, Zhao dropped his smirk. Roku realized this was a threat, and chose to say nothing.

"You stand no chance," Zhao went on, his smirk returning as he spoke. "Concealed within his fortress at the Crescent Island, the Lord of the Ring sees all. His gaze pierces shadow, land, flame, and flesh."

He seemed to see the alarm growing in Roku's eyes, for Zhao paused to adress him. "You walk through these halls with a familiarity. Surely this isn't your first time here, surely you know of what I speak?"

When no answer came, Zhao provided one. "A Great Eye, lidless, made of the lifeblood of Sozin."

"Flame," Roku whispered.

Zhao grins. "He sees your plan. He knows the Ring has been found. He has deployed his soldiers."

Roku heard his blood thump in his veins. "What was your quest?"

"The Ring will be found,_ that_ is for sure," Zhao went on. "And the one who carries it will die."

"Aang." Roku turned away from Zhao, took a few steps forward, but found another soldier blocking his path.

He turned back to Zhao and found him closer. "You did not seriously think that an airbender could contend with the will of Sozin? Or with his heir, Fire Lord Ozai?"

A blow fell against his head; it exploded with pain. He fell to his knees, groaning.

He remembers the helplessness that consumed him then; the echo of _Aang, Aang, Aang, Aang. _Darkness began to creep over his vision. His head hurt.

"And, to answer your question," Zhao's voice came through the growing shadow. "My quest is to destroy every piece of information in the library regarding the Fire Nation. Only then will we truly be devoid of weakness."

He recalls these final words said to him before darkness overcame him. Since then, he's awoken twice. Each time, weariness overtakes him. He is determined not to let this happen a third time.

In the darkness of his chamber, he begins to calculate how he will escape.

* * *

"_Is he alive?_"

Korra, who has been stirred awake from her unconsciousness by Jinora, now panics as she views Aang's limp body. "Is he alive? What was it? Who was it? Will he be okay?"

"Lightning wound... this is beyond my skill to heal," Zuko chokes out, sweat forming on his brow. He lifts Aang onto his shoulder. "Only the waterbenders can help him now."

He begins to move, not waiting for the girls to follow him. It is only when he realizes that he can't hear their footsteps behind him that he turns. He finds them standing still, wearing identical expressions of shock.

"Hurry!" He yells at them, not bothering to be gentle. They spring into action at the roughness of his voice, Korra leading them.

"We're six days from the Southern Water Tribe!" she cries. "He'll never make it!"

Zuko does not bother to retort; any argument made against that statement would be a lie. Instead, he only whispers: "Hold on, Aang."

As though responding to Zuko's silent desperation, or perhaps as a product of her own, Korra lets out a cry. "_Roku_!"

* * *

They move with a newfound energy spurred by their desperation. When dawn's first light creeps into the sky, Zuko calls a short break. The girls manage to look at him with obvious displeasure and disagreement, but Zuko too can see the way exhaustion has manifested in their faces, their bodies. He himself can barely stand; his entire body trembles with the effort of carrying Aang.

Slowly, he lowers Aang to the ground. He turns to look at the girls, who sit leaning against a tree, panting as they catch their breath. "I'm going to try and find some water- maybe food."

"We don't have time for _food_," Korra spits. Her eyes are shards of ice.

"If we don't try to keep our strength up, we'll of be no use to him." It is unlike Zuko to be so rational, but somehow this role, this mentality, found him. He jerks his head in Aang's direction. "Look after him till I get back."

"No." Korra leaps to her feet, then staggers at the sudden movement. "_You_ stay with him. Those things are still out there, and you'll defend him better." She nods at Jinora and Ikki, who immediately stand. "We'll go."

Zuko nods. He realizes what an effort it must have been for Korra to say that _he_, who she does not know and does not trust, would be of better use to Aang than herself. He recognizes, within himself, an inkling of respect for her.

The girls begin to walk off. Zuko warns them not to go too far, and to call if they need (or encounter) anything. They wave, signalling their understanding, and Zuko spends the entirety of the next few minutes trying his hardest _not_ to look at Aang.

It proves too difficult; Aang is just too _there_, too limp, too unconscious, too much a product of Zuko's own lapse of strength and judgment. He is loud in his silence. Still avoiding looking at Aang's face, Zuko pushes himself to his feet, desperate for a distraction.

He spots a plant by Aang's foot, strange in its familiarity. Siezing the oppurtunity, Zuko crouches beside it, ripping and examining a stem. He recalls this plant from a travel with his uncle, or thinks he recalls it; Uncle Iroh was always keen to teach him about herbs and plants, and Zuko was always resistant. He wishes now that he hadn't been.

Suddenly there is something sharp pressing into his neck. A blade. Zuko's heart sinks into his stomach. He realizes Aang's extreme vulnerability, beneath his hunched body; he quickly begins to formulate a plan of attack.

"What's this?" A distinctly femine voice speaks. "A fire prince caught off his guard?"

Zuko recognizes the voice. He now recognizes the blade. He recognizes the strands of raven hair that have fallen against his shoulder, the way it shines even in the night. "_Mai?_"

The blade is pulled back. "It seems your wits have abandoned you."

Zuko exhales, relief pounding through his blood. "Agni, Mai."

"Who is this?" She kneels, looking over his shoulder at Aang's limp body. Zuko says nothing, but lifts him so that the wound on his back is revealed. Mai's eyes darken when she sees it. "Azula."

"I have to save him." Zuko does not look at Mai when he speaks, afraid she'll see the helplessness there. "I don't know how."

There is a crash behind them. Korra, Jinora, and Ikki explode from the underbrush. They pause when they see the newcomer, hunched beside Zuko.

"He needs waterbenders," Zuko says to Mai, not paying mind to the girls who stand with their jaws deopped.

"Yes," says Mai. She turns away from Aang to look Zuko in the eye. "How far are we from the Southern Water Tribe?"

"Six days." It is Korra who answers. "I'm from there."

Mai regards her with cool eyes and says nothing. Zuko leaps to his feet. "Stay with the girls," he adresses Mai. "I'll take Aang."

"No," Mai says, standing too. "I have an ostrich-horse."

"Good... good." He is surprised at this stroke of fortune; they'd move much faster with an ostrich-horse. "As soon as I'm there, I'll send people to fetch you."

Mai rolls her eyes. "Recent evidence points to the contrary."

Zuko sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Mai."

"What? I'm sorry if I don't believe you when you say that you'll come back for me."

"_Mai_!" His eyes blaze. "This isn't the time for your pettiness! You haven't the slightest idea what this is all about, what's at stake!"

At this outburst, which leaves the trio by the tree stunned, Zuko begins to walk through the fringes of the clearing, searching for the ostrich-horse. The girls by the tree watch with fascination the unfathomable expression of the stony-faced, raven-haired beauty, mystified and fascinated by her connection with their "Lee".

Mai takes a few steps forward, blocking Zuko's progress with her arm. She waits until he meets her gaze before speaking.

"You underestimate me." Mai speaks in a low voice, so that only he can hear. "You've always underestimated me. But my pride isn't what this is about, contrary to your opinion. I'm the faster rider. I'll get the airbender to the Southern Water Tribe in half the time you'll be able to. I can save him. And so maybe _you_ should stop being so... petty."

With that, Mai spins on her heel and delves into the shrubbery, returning moments later with an ostrich-horse in hand. Zuko is standing as he was, head hanging, and it is only when Mai attempts to lift Aang onto the beast that Zuko steps forward and offers his assistance.

Neither Zuko nor Mai speak, but Korra cries out as soon as Mai swings herself onto the ostrich-horse. "_Lee_! What are you doing?"

"Keep quiet, Korra."

"_Keep quiet_?! Those things are still out there!" Korra's eyes are incredulous as she moves forward to where the ostrich-horse stands, grabbing Zuko's forarm. "I barely know you, and it's hard enough for me to trust _you_ with his life, but she's just- a complete- _no_! I can't let you!"

Zuko shrugs off Korra's grip. "Mai."

After a moment, Mai looks down at Zuko. Her eyes are cold.

"Ride hard," says he, his eyes entreating her to do just that- and perhaps a little bit more. "Don't look back."

With a curt nod, Mai kicks at the ostrich-horse's side, and they fly down the path.

Korra throws up her arms in exasperation, attempts to chase the horse, but returns empty-handed a few minutes later. Her eyes are livid. She shoves Zuko so hard that he stumbles.

"What have you _done_?!" she roars. "You've killed him!"

"If she can get across the river, the waterbenders will protect her." Zuko stares at the path that Mai disappeared from, suddenly not sure what he is hoping for. "It's the only chance we have."

* * *

The wind whips through Mai's dark hair as she pushes the ostrich-horse she rides to the very limits of its speed. It's been four days. The sun has long since risen, and is now at its peak in the sky. She is dimly aware of the ache in her back and her thighs and her arms, of the sweat plastering her hair to the back of her neck- as though these things are separate from her, to be disregarded until the leisure to entertain them is at hand.

Cradled between her arms, Aang bobs up and down with the force of the ostrich-horse's movements. He is somewhat sitting in the saddle and mostly sitting in her lap, his head repeatedly crashing against her arm every time he bounces. Mai's arm has long went numb, and her gloved fingers clutch the reins with growing desperation. Despite the discomfort, she feels no animosity towards this boy she does not know; and this is uncommon, for Mai feels animosity towards almost everyone- _especially_ people who cause her discomfort. Already he has disarmed her, and that makes Mai even _more_ uncomfortable. She wonders as to why. This boy is nothing special; she doesn't know his name, and she caught only a glimpse of his face. Perhaps it is the way Zuko had treated this boy, his obvious worry for him, the way his eyes had spoken the helplessness he couldn't verbally acknowledge. Perhaps it is the way Zuko obviously _cared_. It's been a long time since Zuko cared about anything.

_No. _Mai quickly stops herself; she won't allow herself to think about _him_. Not now, when someone's life is at stake, when the thought of _him_ is disastrously crippling. No, he is to be tucked away, to be disregarded until the leisure to entertain him is at hand.

To distract herself, Mai examines the landscape unfurling in front of her with an eagle-eye. She surprises herself by doing this for several hours, until the sun begins to sink again; by then, the trees have completely fallen away, the land is barren and plain, and she can spot the not-so-faraway glimmer of water, the unmistakable glint of ice that touches it.

"We're near the shore," she tells the unconscious Aang. A gust of cold hits her, and she smiles.

She doesn't know how long she rides before they come. She knows that it is a short time, or it _feels_ short, and then they're there: undeniable as the sun or the stars. She immediately lifts her head, her sharp ears straining; and there it is, the soft footsteps of beasts who's riders would rather not be heard.

Mai swallows. She does not turn. As inconspicuously as she can, she moves her foot, digs her heel into her ostrich-horse's side. But it is only allowed two gallops before it screeches and the world revolves and is shifted out of focus, and Mai is tumbling, and she blindly reaches for the boy and hugs him to her chest, and then she hits the unforgiving ground and he crashes on top of her and she can't see, can't breathe, and surely her arm shouldn't be bent at that angle, surely it shouldn't feel as though it's _burning_-

"Lady of Silver."

Even as she huffs and groans with the exertion of pushing Aang off of her with one arm, Mai is hit with a realization and an accompanying stab of gratitude. The Hi-Nánrén would not recognize her, would not know to call her by that name. These are mere firebenders, then. A moment later, when Aang lays beside her and Mai can see, this is confirmed.

Four firebenders stand before her, accompanied by two rhinos. Mai doesn't bother to consider the odds. She never does. Instead, she pulls herself to her feet, her face perfectly composed and vacant despite the pain in her arm. "If you value your lives, you'll take your rhinoes into the forest, and you won't look back."

For a moment, they stare at each other, measuring the competition. The smell of burning flesh hits her nostrils, and Mai doesn't dare look at her ostrich-horse. Then one of the men laughs, the sound distorted by the white metal mask that covers his face. They are all metal, these minions of Ozai; metal and ash.

"Who is it you carry?" One of the men steps forward, then halts as Mai raises a hand. The knife glints in the failing sun.

"If you know who I am, then you know what I can do." The threat in her words is obvious. Taking advantage of the soldiers' hesitation, Mai swoops low, grabbing one of Aang's hands. She takes slow steps backwards, never taking her eyes off the soldiers. They will not let her leave without a challenge; Mai knows this. She only wants to be as close to the river as possible when all hell breaks loose.

It happens sooner than she anticipates. A soldier, one who lingered behind the others, suddenly pushes past his comrades, and Mai begins to run, dragging Aang with her. The soldier reaches them in a matter of seconds, and right when he's too close for Mai's comfort she glances back and throws the knife. She doesn't bother to check if it lodged, and she doesn't bother to slow; her aim is perfect. Sure enough, with a groan, the soldier sinks to his knees, Mai's knife lodged in the small vulnerable space between his armor and his helmet.

But Mai runs faster, knowing already that this is one of the few matches in which she can't afford to get cocky. They're running up to her now, their armor clinking with the movement. _There's more_. She knows it. She can hear their rhinos. They're almost upon her. Mai pushes her legs to the limit and her arms protest and her lungs burn with the air she so desperately wants to inhale-

She feels heat, and she ducks.

Helpless as she falls to the ground and rolls away from the flames that surge from the soldier's hands, Aang slips away from her. As soon as the flames clear, Mai is on her feet, and she bares her teeth when she sees two of the soldiers pawing at the boy.

"He's an airbender!" one of them proclaims, his voice portraying the awe his face cannot. "It's _him_! The airbender!"

"You'll regret that," Mai seethes. The soldiers start, as though they forgot her presence. Mai lifts a hand and flicks her wrist, and another soldier falls, moaning.

Mai leaps for Aang, mindlessly- and upon reflection, she'd think it was the most stupid move she'd ever made in combat. But this is new territory for her; she never fought for anyone before, only herself. The soldiers grab her shoulders, and Mai struggles to lift her good arm, to hurt one of them, but her other arm is simply _screaming_ in protest, and one of them has crawled over her and his hand is coming for her face-

She lifts her knee and does not miss her mark. The soldier folds in on himself, pawing at his groin, and Mai crawls, desperate, grabbing the hem of Aang's tunic as she goes, and they're barely inching along, and she can hear them rise again and follow-

_So close_, she thinks despairingly. But her arm is throbbing; the knives she throws haphazardly over her shoulder do not quite make their mark. Mai looks helplessly at Aang, who's face was bared in the chaos. His skin is pale, his lips almost blue.

_Forgive me_, she thinks, knowing as she looks at the oncoming firebenders that she will fail. Still she grips her blades, the sharp edges cutting into her fingertips in a way that is familiar. If she is to fall, she is to fall fighting; the Lady of Silver would not fall any other way.

The men keep coming, their masks vacant. Mai grits her teeth. Just as they are about to overcome her, and she can feel the flames of their fists singe the tips of her hair, she hears a great cry behind her. Disbelieving, Mai whirls around.

"_Get down!_"

Mai obeys the command without thinking, throwing herself over Aang's body. Icicles soar over her head, piercing the necks of several firebenders. They fall from their rhinos with dull thuds. Mai dares to look up; only a warrior would know that the firebenders' metal uniforms had but one weakness, and that is at the neck. What Mai sees is not what she expects. It is the unmistakable silhouette of another woman, made fuzzy by the mist that rises from the water she has raised around her.

"Go from here." Mai hears the woman speak, unmasked venom in her voice. "You are not welcome in the Southern Water Tribe!"

"Give up the airbender!"

Surprisingly, this woman who does not know Mai nor the boy does not give into the command. "If you want him," she says fiercely, "Come and claim him!"

As though in response, one firebender throws himself at Mai and the body she guards. Mai cringes and tightens her hold on Aang, but then she hears a groan; another well-aimed icicle has pierced his neck.

The woman is suddenly beside her, and Mai can see her face. More importantly, she can see the glittering band that encircles her head.

"You're the princess of the Southern Water Tribe," gasps Mai. She is astounded at her ability to_ be_ astounded, but this has been a day of firsts.

"Yes," the princess answers, without looking at Mai. Her eye contact with the vile men that continue to rush forward does not break.

Mai, too, takes a look. While there were only four at the start, it seems now that there are about ten. "They're too many," Mai tells her, and her throat feel unbelievably dry.

"I know," the princess says simply. "Get behind me."

For a reason she cannot comprehend- or perhaps because she is simply the way she is- Mai becomes defensive. She has never appreciated the forced protection of men, who assume her to be too weak to care for herself; let alone another woman. "I can fight-"

"You said there were too many, and you spoke the truth," the princess cuts her off. "Stay behind me. Neither one of us, nor both of us, can take them."

"What's your plan, then?" Mai hisses through her teeth, still hunched over Aang.

The princess squints, and for the first time, Mai catches the clear blue of her eyes. "I'll let the river do our job for us."

Mai doesn't try to understand, and in the future she will try to remember the next few minutes with something resembling clarity and find that she is unable to. Everything happens too quickly. Somehow, the willowy princess manages to get Mai and her charge to the edge of the river- Mai will never remember _how_, exactly, and that will infuriate her because she doesn't know if she put up any resistance, or if perhaps she helped. In an instant, a corner of the rushing water hardens into ice; and Mai looks up at the princess, finding her arms outstretched and her fingers splayed. Somehow the three of them end up on the ice, and somehow it dislodges from the shore and the three of them are floating, but not quite floating because this is a vessel, moving with surety and purpose to the opposite shore- which isn't a shore at all, but ice.

And then they're there, on the opposite end of the water, and Mai tries to drag Aang onto the shore despite the little strength left in her. The princess helps, tucking her hands beneath Mai's arms and pulling, ignoring Mai's small protests.

Mai throws her head back and pants. She's never felt so afraid, so exhilarated A small, realistic part of her recognizes that she was lucky to escape with her life. As soon as she catches her breath, she poses the question: "Are we safe?"

The princess moves forward until she's standing at the very edge of the shore, and she answers with her back to Mai. "Not quite."

Mai watches as she lifts her hands, bends her knees, folds in on herself then bursts, her arms moving in patterns as sinuous as the water she bends. A deep rumble sounds from the river, and a great wave begins to build, blinding Mai with its foam. It rises and rises for a few moments, then pauses, trembling at its peak; and then the inevitable crash, somewhere beyond them, although Mai has a pretty good idea who the water targeted.

Beside Mai, Aang gasps and shudders.

Mai crawls the miniscule distance to him, and the princess is there too, and they're both examining him; watching something move behind his huge, pale eyelids, watching as shudders wrack his thin frame and breathless gasps leave his blue lips.

"He's been attacked- lightning," Mai informs the princess, licking her lips, wondering at the pounding in her chest.

The princess presses a hand lightly to his forehead. Mai swallows. "He hasn't made a sound before. Completely unconscious, limp. I don't know why he did just now... is it good?"

The princess doesn't answer. Instead, she lifts him- Mai helps- and her lips form a grim line at the sight of the wound on his back. Gently, he is laid down again, and then the princess bends her head to his chest, and it is as though she is listening to his heart.

"Oh, no." It is a grave whisper from the princess's lips. She rises and looks at Mai, blue eyes wide and somewhat afraid. "He's- he's going. He's done, he- he has _seconds_."

Something collapses within Mai. "_No_," she whispers, dimly, voice small.

The princess shakes her head, worrying her lip with her teeth. "I- they could have helped him more, but I..."

And Mai watches as the princess rolls back her long sleeves and bends some water from the nearby river, then lets them envelop her hands. When her hands are completely gloved, she looks at Mai, and her voice shakes for the first time. "I'll try."

Mai nods, giving assent that she knows she has no right to give. The princess nods too, understanding. Then they both lean forward and move Aang into a sitting position, so that his forehead is resting on Mai's shoulder, his legs astride hers, and Katara is sitting behind him, hands outstretched.

The first touch to Aang's inflamed skin is tentative. Then it becomes more confident, and the princess moves the water over the ruined spot, closing her eyes, concentrating.

Nothing happens for a few deadly seconds. Mai tastes copper in her mouth as she bites her lip a little too hard, and the princess begins to murmur a plea.

"Whatever grace is given me," says she. "Let it pass to him."

A heartbeat later, her watery gloves begin to glow. Mai watches in awe as the glowing hands move, joining and soothing the torn skin beneath.

"Let him be spared," the princess murmurs, eyes still closed as she turns her face up to the sky. Mai wonders what spirits she is praying to, and if they could possibly help now, when surely it is too late.

"Save him."

Aang jerks and arches and collapses against Mai with helpless shudders. The princess pulls her hands away and examines the wound for a split second before commanding: "Lay him back. Quick."

They do so, and Aang groans, but the sound is so reassuringly human that Mai barely stifles a smile. He is not dead; already the blue fades from his lips. His eyelids flutter before fully opening, but he groans and shuts his eyes again, wincing at some pain they cannot know.

"Shh." The princess leans over him, her hand resting on his cheek. They watch as the muscles of his face immediately go lax. "Shh. Rest now. My name is Katara, and I am a friend. You're safe."

Aang opens his eyes again, a slight upward sweep of the eyelids, but it is enough to see her- the goddess, the angel, the combination of honey and chocolate and clear summer skies. _Katara_. He catches a glimpse of her and groans again, because it is too hard to keep his eyes open, and she is promptly gone, replaced with the deep black of unconsciousness.

* * *

For the first time in her life, Mai feels ungraceful. She shuffles across the ice, her feet bound in layers of animal skins, shivering. She feels torn between staying in the white, blinding cold, where every breath of air stabs refreshingly at her lungs- or going inside her tent, where she's been cooped up for _days_- where it's incredibly boring but at least warm.

After a moment of thought, she opts to stay outside, choosing to forget the fact that she looks like an ungainly penguin.

Her arm throbs against her chest as she moves. It isn't nearly as horrific as it was; the waterbenders have repaired the broken bone, but the arm needs time to heal. Still, Mai takes an odd pleasure in every twinge of pain. It's a battle scar, and Mai is never not proud of those.

A few minutes into her walk, a few soldiers pass her. Over the last few days, Mai has learned to identify the soldiers from the other men; perhaps because there are so few men in the tribe to begin with. Nearly every man she's encountered wore a soldier's garb; an extra layering of tough hides over their soldiers and forearms, an imitation of armor. Mai feels somewhat sorry for them. She knows they're the ones who were left behind, playing at being soldiers and guardians, because everyone who _can_ fight has surely left to be in the front lines- and because mere animal hides are useless against flame.

The soldier who leads them, a tall young man in an odd headdress- Mai thinks it is the severed head of a wolf- stops and considers her, asks her if she's lost or if he can assist her with anything. She flatly declines, and walks a little faster, because these people have already seen her at her most vulnerable, and she has a reputation to protect.

The chief part of said vulnerability stems from the physical weakness of the last few days, as Mai laid in her bed and groaned as the healers did their work, then slept off the pain. The princess, Katara, was constantly with them, and Mai found herself viewing her with slight disdain. What did a princess care if she lived or died? _She doesn't_, Mai told herself vehemently, and told herself not to nurture any illusions of attachment, not to her, and not to the boy.

The boy; he is another reason as to why she feels so uncomfortable in her skin. As soon as she felt she could walk and Mai was making small trips round the tents and the expanse of ice, she visited him and learned his name. _Aang_. Mai thought to herself that it was a fitting name, and she made several trips to his hut since then, hoping to glean some information on whether or not he was healing.

Unconsciously, Mai's feet head in that direction now. As soon as Mai takes note of this she snorts in disgust and turns purposefully in the opposite direction, almost crashing into someone who is walking behind her.

"Oh!" The person, _Katara_, reaches forward and grasps Mai's shoulder to steady her. Mai glares and slightly shrugs her shoulder, and Katara lowers her hand, understanding.

"Are you following me?" Mai accuses.

"Ah- no." Still Katara smiles, despite Mai's rudeness. "I was heading to Aang's hut, to relieve the other healer. I have soup." She holds up two bowls, as proof.

Mai's eyes narrow, but she says nothing. Katara, apparently unperturbed, moves forward. Mai watches her, wanting to follow but knowing she wouldn't, and as though she can read her mind, Katara turns.

"Why don't you come with me?"

Katara's eyes are open and inviting but her smile is tremulous, and it is that small uncertainty that finally pushes Mai forward; that small indication that Katara is not as self-assured as she seems.

Aang's tent is, for the most part, unchanged. In the center of the floor is a square fire pit outlined by bricks, previously useless but now crackling merrily. Mai curls her lip; despite the fact that she's been here for a few days, she doesn't think she can get used to the crude structure of the Southern Water Tribe buildings- if one can even call them that. _Hut_ is more suitable. The slight walls are made of sealskin, and a number of animal pelts cover the bamboo floors. Spears and animal headdresses, which Mai assumes have ceremonial purposes, are displayed throughout the hut, even in the small closed-off sleeping chamber. Despite herself, Mai finds them both grotesque and fascinating. Altogether, however, she feels somehow disappointed. She isn't sure why, but she expected something more grand.

Past the small veil at one end of the hut is the sleeping area, and Aang. Mai takes one look at him and knows that he, too, is unchanged. His skin is pale, and he seems tinged at the edges with blue. He looks brittle, barely a man, barely living. Mai turns her eyes to the ceiling, to the wall, anything to avoid looking at him.

"Has there been any change?" Katara whispers to the healer who sits at Aang's beside.

"No," says she, and the two whisper for a moment before the healer stands, departing with a small bow.

"I don't know why they bow," Katara says to Mai, looking flustered.

Mai sucks in a breath and tries not to roll her eyes. Nothing irritates her like false modesty.

When Mai looks at Katara, she's taken a seat beside Aang and gestures beside her with the soup bowl. "Sit. Oh, and would you like some soup?"

Mai jerks her head, though her stomach rumbles in protest. "No."

"Please. I know you haven't eaten... I'd feel guilty if you didn't take any."

Again, Mai keeps from rolling her eyes, taking the soup because it'll be quicker than arguing.

Katara seems to wait for Mai to spoon the soup into her mouth before speaking. "How's your arm?"

Mai shrugs. "Healing. I've had worse."

"Hmm." Something flashes in Katara's eyes then, something fiery and refreshingly human, but it disappears quickly behind a mask of politeness.

"That's good to hear. Let us know if there's anything else we can do?"

Katara voices it as a question, not a statement; and, fleetingly, Mai wishes she'd met this woman under different circumstances, because she clearly understands her. Not that Mai thinks they could have been friends- of course not- but it certainly would have been more... interesting.

To avoid answering, Mai eats her soup. It's plain and vaguely slimy, like everything else she's eaten here. When Katara smiles, her mouth is tight.

"I've been meaning to tell you something." Katara's hands are suddenly busy, fiddling with the edge of Aang's quilt. "I'm not really a princess."

Mai's motions still, and so do Katara's. She meets Mai's gaze with something like shame in her eyes. "You called me a princess, and I said I was, but I'm not."

Mai is surprised; but, as always, she hides it well. Her eyes flit to the glittering band encircling Katara's head, the question clear.

"Oh- this." Katara reaches up and pulls it off, cradling the thing in her hand, and Mai marvels at how it doesn't break. It looks so thin, so fragile. "This doesn't mean anything. My father's Chief, but he's not here. My brother stands in for him, but he's not officially Chief yet. My grandmother is the best healer and waterbender. I'm not really... anything."

Katara's gaze is fixed on the ground, eyes hidden behind their lids. She doesn't look upset, or angry- oddly enough, she looks ashamed.

"Niether am I," Mai shrugs, because it's something to say.

Katara looks up then, her lips curling with a slight smile. She nods, and Mai takes it for what it is; a silent expression of gratitude.

Again, Mai thinks what they might have been if they'd met under different circumstances. Irritated at how soft she's becoming, she forces the thought from her mind.

Katara jerks her chin in Mai's direction. "Is everything alright? You've barely eaten."

The two things seem disconnected to Mai, but she's hardly going to justify the former with an answer. She also notices that Katara hasn't touched her soup, either.

"It's a bit bland," Mai says, unapologetic.

"Ah." Katara's tone is not unkind, but something glints in her eyes. "You're used to Fire Nation spices."

"I've traveled," says Mai, because Katara makes her sound arrogant.

"Yes, you mentioned that."

Mai bristles immediately, though no accusation is voiced. Her eyes narrow at the subtle change in Katara; the softness has gone from the curve of her spine, from the lines of her face. Her eyes shine a bit too strongly for comfort. Mai shakes her head and wonders if she's gone insane, because Katara _looks_ the same, of course she does- but she doesn't, at the same time. It's as if the kindness has gone out of her.

But the notion is dispelled when Katara leans over and props Aang up on several pillows, then spoons soup into his slack mouth.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Mai blurts out, then composes herself. "I mean. Won't he choke?"

"He won't choke," says Katara, and Mai is sure she's smiling, just a little, and she has a feeling it is at _her_ expense.

They sit in silence for a measure of time Mai can't determine, the only sound the occasional hitch in Aang's breath. Eventually Mai's composure cracks; she starts to fidget, uncomfortable. If Katara notices this, she says nothing.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?"

Mai's head jerks up at the question. If she wasn't uncomfortable before, she certainly is now. Katara's tone is instantly contrite and apologetic. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"Don't apologize," Mai says tightly.

"I've just been curious." Katara's eyes don't waver from Aang, from the steady, repetitive motion of feeding him soup. "I haven't heard much about the Ring-Bearer."

Mai assumes that this "Ring-Bearer" is Aang. "I don't know much about him either."

Katara's eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "But you're the one who brought him here."

"I was only helping," Mai says, realizing that this is as honestly as she's allowed herself to speak in Katara's company as of yet. "I was part of... a party. _They_ knew him. I was only lending my assistance."

Katara draws her bottom lip between her teeth, as though thinking. "Did you know any of them?"

Mai nods jerkily.

Her face must have betrayed something, though Mai will swear by all the spirits that it didn't, it _couldn't_- but it must have, because the next thing she knew, Katara abandoned her chore and is reaching for Mai's hand.

Mai pulls back abruptly. Katara's eyes widen, obviously offended, but she quickly collects herself- and Mai both curses and praises herself for her callousness.

"I should go," Mai says. Her head is starting to pound. "Here. Take this."

Katara looks at the bowl Mai hands her, almost full. Her smile is small and shaky. "No, I couldn't. You're our guest here."

"Why not?" Mai huffs, exasperated and irritated at Katara's continued kindness; she's been nothing but rude and abrupt with the lot of them, and they've all been helping her unceasingly- and maybe that was the problem. "I'm not eating it. You might as well eat it."

"I couldn't eat if you weren't eating," says Katara, as though that seals the matter.

"I don't want it," Mai says, perhaps a little rougher than is necessary. "And I won't eat it. I don't want to walk out with it on the snow. Take it."

Katara's friendly expression, shaky already, falls away entirely. She reaches mutely for the bowl, taking it from Mai and setting it on the floor beside her. Mai's cheek burn as she turns towards the flap that would free her from Katara's cumbersome company.

"Your friends will be alright."

Mai pauses in her steps, mouth going dry. "What?"

"Your friends," Katara says, voice softer. "My grandmother received a letter from Roku this morning."

"Roku," says Mai, her mind suddenly slow. "Has he found him- _them_?"

"No." Katara frowns. "But he's on his way here, and their paths may cross."

"Right," Mai says, her stomach sinking, because it's not as definitive a reassurance as she'd like.

"If anyone can help now, it's Roku." Mai's hands shake as Katara continues to speak, and she clenches them into fists- otherwise, she might swipe at her eyes, which have suddenly started to burn. "So don't... don't worry about them, alright?"

Mai leaves the tent without gracing Katara with an answer, because damn her if she's figured out the deepest and most well-guarded of her vulnerabilities without even trying.

* * *

"_Make way!_"

The tedium of the night is torn apart by a warrior wearing the severed head of a wolf. His breath is heavy and harsh in the cold, white puffs of exhaustion and nerves as he navigates through his tribes-people, awakened from their sleep. They stand in puzzled circles outside their tents, draped haphazardly in furs, cold but curious. The warrior pushes through them, assisted by his fellow soldiers- a few men, no more than five, those that are left. Three frightened girls and a tall, bearded man follow.

The warrior carries a limp and bloodied body in his arms.

When the old woman reaches him, there is no more confusion; the crowds clear, parting seconds before she reaches them, as though frightened by her authority. The warrior's bought of gratitude is cut short as she brings him into her tent and he sees clearly the thin line that is her mouth.

"Set him there," she points.

The warrior obeys, setting the man in his arms on the cot she indicates. The old woman is already moving, pulling buckets of water from the corner of the room, and a couple of his men jump to her assistance. The old, bearded man stands in one corner, grim, not speaking.

"Is anyone else hurt?" she asks the warrior, not looking at him, the question clipped.

"Scrapes," he answers, not mentioning that he wore most of them. He'd be fine, and he knew it; it was this man who was truly needed help.

She casts a cursory eye over him, a blade moving to slice open his clothes and bare his torso. The expanse of pale skin does not extend far beyond his collarbone; the rest is blood, blood from the wound that tore his left side open.

A few of his men hiss through their teeth, and the warrior shoots them a glance. The old woman- the healer- needs all her concentration for this. That reminds him:

"Make sure the girls don't-"

It's a second too late, because the flap of the tent is cast aside and brings with it three girls, two of them small and pale and decked in orange and yellow, the third taller and darker and very familiar.

"Korra," the warrior says. "You need to get them out."

The two smaller girls are crying, one rather loudly and the other very silent. Korra casts him a helpless glance, then steels her jaw and nods. A few coaxing words later and the three have left the tent, much to everyone's relief.

The warrior glances at the old woman, trying to read her face; her lip is pulled between her teeth, and she does nothing but examine. A moment later, though, she's wet a cloth and runs it over the blood.

"I need more water and cloths. I need to see the wound before I can do more."

"Got it," says a soldier, moving out of the tent.

"And Katara." The old woman looks at the warrior when she makes this demand. "Fetch her for me."

The warrior grimaces, his eyes entreating. "Does she _have_ to be involved in this?"

"If we are to save him, yes."

"But- look at him!" The warrior's voice rises, both disrespectful and disruptive, but right then he doesn't care. "Look at his scar. Don't you know who he is?"

"I know exactly who he is," the old woman says, coolly. "I need Katara."

The warrior deflates, his shoulders slumping in surrender. A wizened hand lands on his shoulder; he looks up and finds his grandmother's face close, eyes soft and reassuring.

"You did well, Sokka," says she. "I know you don't want to involve your sister, but I need her for this."

"Yes, alright," he says, miserably.

"Zuko must live," Kanna says, the softness gone from her face and her tone. She sounds frightening and authoritative, the way the rest of the tribe must view her. "He must live, if there's going to be any hope. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he says again, voice firmer. He nods once and leaves the tent.

Finding and fetching Katara is easy. She enters their grandmother's tent and freezes in her steps, turning wide and accusing eyes at Sokka. He shrugs, helpless.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he is. "She insisted."

She sends him a withering glare before moving forward, already shedding her outer furs and rolling up her sleeves. She spares a glance for the silent old man in the corner, but asks no questions. Instead she listens to Kanna's instructions, and Sokka settles into the background, watching as the two of them worked together like a well-oiled machine.

Time passes- Sokka cannot determine how much- before Kanna settles back with a satisfied sigh, and Sokka knows the work has ended. He looks at the Fire Prince- he hasn't looked at him for some time- and finds him clean and bandaged. A moment later, Kanna covers him with a blanket.

"Tell me how this happened, Sokka." Kanna's voice is weary.

"I was on night patrol," he says. "The firebenders are still on the borders, as they have been all week. But there was a disturbance this time- _he_ came, the Fire Prince...and at first I could only see him. He fought with them, and..."

Here Sokka looks down, his cheeks flaming. He clears his throat and goes on. "I didn't help him. I figured they could fight it out among themselves."

"Sokka," says Kanna, disappointment riddling her voice.

"I wasn't going to risk my men for a sorry prince." Sokka keeps his eyes trained on the floor, though his voice doesn't waver. "Anyway, that didn't last long- I saw Korra. We crossed the river and jumped in then, but _he_ was already wounded."

Kanna nods. "Go on."

"There isn't much else. Korra told me the prince was with them, that he helped bring the airbender. We carried him here."

"Roku." Kanna directs her attention to the old man in the corner. "Have you anything else to add to the tale?"

He clears his throat and speaks for the first time, his twinkling eyes communicating words not said. "Nothing that is immediately relevant."

Kanna turns again to Sokka. "And nobody else was wounded?"

"Not seriously."

Kanna begin to gather a few supplies in her arms. "And the girls?"

Sokka shrugs. "I didn't, you know, _check_, but they looked alright."

"Don't be crude, Sokka," Katara snaps.

Sokka throws her a grin; because he was truly worried about her being in the prince's company, but if she had time to pelt him with snarky comments then she was alright.

Kanna gave them both a sharp look and thrust the supplies into Sokka's arms. "Some salve and bandages for you and the men. If there's anything serious, tell them I'll be in Katara's tent."

"Alright," says Sokka, then leaves.

When he is gone, Kanna and Katara exchange a glance full of the things they don't have time to say- not yet, anyway. There are more pressing things at hand.

Kanna voices them. "We should check on the girls."

"Yes," Katara says, relieved at this routine action. They leave the tent and step gingerly over the ice to Katara's tent, telling people as they walked to return to their tents and to their sleep.

As Kanna predicted, Korra is waiting there. Her head jerks up at their arrival, and she leaps away from pole she was leaning against and into Katara's arms.

They exchange a short, fierce hug; then Korra bows respectfully to Kanna. The two younger girls look up from the cot, eyes wide and sparkling.

"Can I see Aang?"

"In time," Kanna answers Korra's impatient question. "Are any of you hurt?"

Korra seems to visibly restrain herself from bolting from the tent and searching the entire tribe for Aang, and it is a moment before she answers. "No. Not me, at least."

"And you?" Kanna turns her attention to the two younger girls.

They don't answer, and Katara steps forward. She moves with slow but sure steps towards them, a small smile curving her lips. She crouches before them.

"Here," she says, voice soft. "What're your names?"

"Jinora and Ikki," the taller one answers.

"Jinora and Ikki," Katara echoes. "I'm Katara. We want to help, alright?"

"We know," Jinora says, but she sounds uncertain. "_Can_ we see Aang?"

"If that's what you want," Katara says. "But I'd like to help you if you're hurt. Ikki, you've got a little cut there."

Katara guessed correctly; the smaller one's eyes flit to her forehead. "I know," she says after a moment. Then: "It burns."

"Let me help," offers Katara, and she leans forward and does just that.

"Wow," Ikki breathes when she's done. Her smile is dimpled. "I've seen Korra do that before, but it's even better to see someone else do it."

"Hey," Korra protests from her corner, where she's exchanging whispers with Kanna.

Ikki laughs, the sound young and clear. Her eyes, gray, focus on Katara. "You're beautiful," she says, frank.

Katara's hand flits to her neck, surprised. "Thank you. You are, too."

Ikki giggles, flushing under the praise. Jinora too is smiling, Katara notices. She feels her own lips turn up at the corners; these adorable girls have already won her heart.

"Katara?"

Her grandmother's voice disrupts the moment. Katara turns, finding Kanna's shoulders slumped with resignation, Korra's lips curled with triumph.

"We're going to find Roku," announces Korra. "Then I want to see Aang."

Though her small smile stays put, her voice betrays her anxiety.

* * *

"There has been no change. Still breathing. He will live."

The small group huddled around the prone figure gasp and sigh with relief, eyes turning misty at this decree. Jinora and Ikki wrap their arms around each other and stifle their cries in the crook of the other's shoulders. Korra presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, trying to stem the emotion that swells there. Roku smiles, a tremulous thing.

Kanna pulls back from Aang and begins to wipe her hands on a blackened cloth. As soon as she feels slightly composed, Korra leans forward and presses a kiss to her leathery cheek.

"Thank you, Sifu Kanna." Her voice is throaty and thick. "I thought- I wasn't sure if he'd arrived safely at all, and then when I heard that he'd been here for a week, and was _still_ unconscious, I was so... I just didn't think anyone would be able to-"

"He will live, Korra," Kanna repeated. "I am the chief healer of the tribe, and I know what he means to you. It is my responsibility as your leader and your friend. Did you not think I would fulfill it?"

"Oh- no, no, of course not," Korra replies, flustered. "I only meant-"

"And the Lady of Silver delivered him safely, in record time," Kanna goes on, her beady blue eyes unfathomable. "As did the Fire Prince, with you and the airbenders. Both suffered for it."

"... right," says Korra, uncertainly, because she isn't sure what Kanna is saying, but it sounds mildly disapproving- of _her_.

"Perhaps it is time you put some trust in others, Korra."

Korra looks away, embarrassed. It is true that she often finds it difficult to trust, to have faith; but how can she find it easy when faith is something so intangible, so opposite to the concrete reassurance she prefers?

Kanna clears her throat. Korra realizes that she is looking at her pointedly, waiting for a response.

"Hm. Right. I suppose I... I'll get some sleep, then."

Kanna smiles, the wrinkles of her face etching themselves more deeply into her skin. "That would be wise. Off you go."

Korra clasps her hands together and bows before backing away, taking Jinora and Ikki with her as she leaves the hut.

As soon as they are gone, Kanna bows over Aang, examining him with an eagle eye. His skin is still deathly pale, but he is breathing more deeply than he has in days.

"Will he truly be alright?"

"Yes." Kanna answers Roku's question without shifting her gaze from Aang. "But I can't say how long it will be before he wakes. This was a fatal wound- no, more than that. This was _lightning_."

Roku hangs his head and says nothing. Kanna goes on. "He should have died. Were it not for the near perfect set of circumstances... the Lady of Silver's quickness in getting him here, and her defense against the firebenders, and Katara showing up when she did and alleviating some of the poison... If _one_ thing had gone wrong, I shudder to think of his fate."

The thought makes Roku uncomfortable, so he shakes his head and changes the subject. "How did you heal him? I've never heard of someone surviving a lightning wound."

"He is strong- and as I said, he would not have survived were it not for the bravery of his friends." Kanna reaches into the neck of her robes and pulls out a trinket, a small vial on a thin chain. "He also would not have survived were it not for this."

Roku tilts his head, examining the elegant silver etchings on the tiny vial. He gasps when realization comes to him. "Water from the spirit oasis at the North Pole... oh, spirits."

"Yes. This is what saved him. My supply is very limited, Roku," says Kanna suddenly. "I don't employ spirit water on any dying victim."

Her eyes narrow, and Roku reads the rest of her statement within them: _tell me this boy is worth it. _

"You haven't made a poor choice," Roku says firmly. "It will not be in vain."

"You say so, but I wonder at the catalyst of your conviction." Kanna tucks the vial into her robes. "I've seen the Ring, Roku. I know he is the Ring-Bearer."

"Have you taken it from him?" Roku's tone is sharp, edged with panic.

Kanna sends him a withering look and reaches into the neck of Aang's tunic. Then she draws it out; the damned, beautiful thing. Roku isn't sure whether to sigh in relief or shudder.

"I apologize," he says, after a moment. "I meant you no insult."

"Trust is not easy to give in these dark days."

Roku nods. "You have lost none of your wisdom."

"And you none of your foolishness," she snaps, but it is not unkind. "You trusted this boy with this great mission and you believe his life is worth more than another because the Ring has fallen into his hands- because _you_ put it in his hands."

"I did no such thing," Roku says, indignant. "It was his uncle's."

Kanna waves a hand dismissively. "No matter. He stumbled upon it, just as Gyatso did. _How_ do you know you've made the right choice?"

"You haven't met him," Roku says. "You haven't seen the purity of his heart."

Kanna sighs. "I do not doubt his purity or his goodness any more than I doubt that of my own grandchildren. But _goodness _will not win this war- six have come to the tribe, you the seventh, and yet he is the only one wounded so seriously."

The message in her words is clear. Five people faced the same threat as Aang, and yet they all survived. Aang was the only one who'd fallen, the least strong of them, it seems.

"That proves nothing," Roku says, indignant, unwilling to see Kanna's point.

"I mean no slight to the boy," Kanna says. "I know you are fond of him. I know you are fond of Gyatso- I am too. But this was not a mission to be delegated to a man- a _boy_- who doesn't have the strength to survive it."

"Aang was _hunted_," stresses Roku. "Were it anyone else, they too would have been struck- they would have been on this cot. Azula never shoots without aim."

Kanna pauses, considering, and Roku seizes his chance.

"You speak of strength," Roku begins. "And you are justified in its mention; we will need stores of strength before our mission succeeds. But in terms of the Ring-bearer - and the Ring itself- there is more than _strength_ at play. Much more."

Kanna looks at him, eyes narrowed in thought.

"You know of what I speak. The Ring has the power to poison, to seduce, to corrupt... it _is_ corruption. Was Sozin not strong? Was Hama not strong?"

Kanna shudders at the mention of the names, suddenly reduced to a mere old woman shivering in the cold.

"They fell prey to the Ring," Roku goes on, but softer. "I could not make the same mistake when selecting our Ring-bearer. I needed something more than strength... and I think our young airbender has it."

"Purity?" says Kanna, uncertain.

"Purity," Roku echoes. "And goodness, and strength of will."

Kanna strokes her chin, her eyes burning holes into Aang. "He has these things?"

"Yes," Roku says. "And what he lacks in, his friends provide."

For a few moments, Kanna does not speak. Then she does. "I understand. After all, we have the Ring. Aang could not have done it alone, but he _did_ do it."

"Yes!" Roku smiles, relieved to have her understanding.

"Yes. To have come this far, bearing the Ring..." Kanna pauses. "The airbender has shown great resilience to its evil."

Roku realizes his error, sees the trap he has set for himself- for Aang.

"It's a burden he should never have had to bear," he says, uncomfortable now.

Kanna's eyes narrow. "You contradict yourself, Roku. Do you, or do you not want this boy to be the Ring-Bearer?"

"It doesn't matter," Roku says quickly. "It's already done. He _is_ the Ring-Bearer... but his mission is done."

"Oh no," says Kanna, slowly. "It's hardly begun."

Roku nearly shudders at her words, but he holds himself in check. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. "What do you mean? The Ring is safe here."

"For a while," concedes Kanna. "But not forever."

Roku feels control slipping from him, and he looks at Aang helplessly; seeing not a man with a grand title, but a boy who preferred floating in the sky to being grounded to the earth.

He wants to blame himself, but he can't. He wishes Aang hadn't suffered- wishes more than anything that when Aang wakes (_if_ he wakes) he can send him home and let him heal. But he can't, and he isn't exactly sorry, because so much more than one boy is at stake.

"Tell me what you know, Roku," says Kanna, and Roku realizes that he's been absorbed in his thoughts for some time. "Tell me what you've learned since we last spoke."

He does. He tells her about Ozai and Zhao, about the Earth King and Republic City, about flighty groups of bandits and kings alike. Kanna listens, her face growing darker all the while.

"This evil cannot be concealed by us," Kanna says eventually. "_Without _the burden of the Ring, we are weak enough. We're without a proper Chief. Most of our men have gone to fight."

"Kanna," he pleads, knowing where her words are headed.

"We're defenseless and powerless. The strength in the few waterbenders and soldiers that remain is not enough."

When Roku opens his mouth to protest, Kanna holds up a hand, silencing him. "We do not have the strength to both hold off the Fire Nation, _and _deflect those who want the Ring for their own!"

"What can we do, then?" Roku asks, and he's never felt so helpless.

"Convene," Kanna answers simply. "This threat belongs to all four nations. It must be decided by them- by _us_."

Roku contemplates; it's not at all a bad idea. In fact, it's agreeable enough to be one of his own suggestions- had he not been thinking only of Aang.

Kanna seems to sense this, for she leans forward and places her hands atop his. "I know you agree with me. I know the only reason you argue now is because of your worry and your love for Aang. But I am a mother-" She pauses, choked, and goes on. "A _grand_mother. I worry, too. But this is larger than us... we have to do this _for_ them, don't you understand?"

Roku nods; words don't seem adequate.

Kanna smiles, wrinkles etching themselves more deeply into her face. After a moment, Roku clears his throat. "We must call a meeting."

She nods. So does Roku, absentmindedly; already he is drawing lists in his mind, deciding who to send letters to, trying to recall where to send them, and his fingers start to twitch. He's itching to leave the room, to start.

He hits a barrier in his mind and draws back. Cautious, he considers posing a question to Kanna. "And... what of our friends in the Fire Nation?"

Kanna's blue eyes turn to icy flints. "I have no friends in the Fire Nation."

"You know of whom I speak," Roku says, firm. "He is our friend and ally. His son is the same."

She snorts. "Where was my _friend and ally _when our houses were demolished? Where was he when we had to send away all our men- wives and children abandoned, families torn apart?"

Roku tries not to wince. He can't afford to be soft; Kanna's the one who said so, after all. "The world is larger than you, Kanna."

Her head whips towards him, eyes wide and vulnerable for a second before she composes herself.

"I'm not being selfish or refusing to see what's at stake. I'm simply saying that the Fire Nation is devoid of goodness." Kanna's lips form a thin, grim line. "And they _are_."

"There is one who could redeem them," Roku points out. "One who could reclaim his place as Fire Lord- and with honor."

"He has turned from that path, long ago." Kanna ducks her head, eyes narrowing. "He has chosen exile."

* * *

Zuko tosses and turns, burning with fever, as images chase each other across the scope of his vision.

A tree on a ship. There's a girl there, and he hears her lilting voice, knows she's mocking him, and he's confused because he hasn't thought of her in _years_; and then it doesn't matter anymore, because she's burning. In fact, the whole thing's going up in flames.

Zuko watches but feels horribly detached, feels nothing- but he tries to tell himself he's not hollow, he's only used to it, because there's always fire when it comes to him. There's fire in his reality, so why wouldn't it leak into his dreams?

Then, water. Soothing, fixing the damage, the antitode to the destruction that seemed imminent when he was around. Soft mocha skin turned pale. Then she shifts and contorts horribly and Zuko wants to look away but _can't_- then she's okay again, but she's not a she at all, because there's a beard.

Zuko cringes, reduced to a child in this terrible dream-world, and tries to push away from his father. But the water is heavy, too heavy, like honey- and there's Uncle, stirring a pot of tea.

He catches a glimpse of his mother before she's swallowed whole.

* * *

Katara wets another cloth and pets at Zuko's head, lips pursed in worry and thought.

For years, her world has been primarily still. As a child, this irritated her, and she craved action and adventure... before she knew its consequences. Her mother's death taught her quite differently.

Since then, she told herself that she welcomed the stillness and the normalcy. Her father's departure didn't mean much; he was a shell of himself since her mother died, anyway, and perhaps if he left and fixed whatever was going on in the world, they could have _houses_ again rather than feeble tents. And so Katara didn't think much of it when her father left her as a child, and as she grew older- when implications of abandonment and realizations of the gore associated with war along with nuggets of dread that sounded like _I'm an orphan _wormed through her head- she ignored them and walked with a high head, telling herself that a princess never let her shoulders stoop.

Katara wasn't deluded; she knew she wasn't a princess, knew the tribal hierarchy of the water tribes didn't work that way. There were princesses and princes in the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom, but not here- here there was a Chief, or a lack of one. But entertaining secret thoughts of royalty and duty helped her carry her responsibilities when times were toughest, when she was sick of the ice or wanted to know what was beyond the river or forgot what it was like to be held in a mother's arms. And soon enough, as her mother and father faded away and Sokka and Gran-Gran became her reality, she didn't need to pretend.

For years now, her life was still. She mastered the lessons of healing that her grandmother transferred to her, and tried not to dispell her desire to master other aspects of waterbending. She helped her people, in everything from cooking to birthing to mending tents and wounds. _That_ was her life, the smiles and waves people gave her as she walked amongst the tents. But there were also whispers of what went on beyond the tribes, talk of fire and blood, visits from Roku, and letters from her father; letters that always creased her grandmother's face, letters that she pressed to her bosom so tightly Katara thought the ink would seep through.

But those were hints of disturbances, shadows at the edges of the night- nothing like the time the firebenders came and took her mother, nothing like the time the Fire Prince so graciously stopped by. And now _this_.

For the past week, she's been generally dizzy; she hasn't had time to fully absorb the enormity of what _happened_, and now, as she mops Zuko's brow and the air around her is eerily still, it hits her like a tidal wave. The Ring of Power is but a couple leagues away, in one of _her_ tents, in _her_ tribe. The Ring of Power is carried by an airbender, a man- no, a _boy_- who is barely clinging to the edges of life, a boy Katara does not know but who makes her heart clench when she looks at his smooth, expressionless face. And that boy might have died, had she not stumbled upon him on one of her random walks to the river- as well as the Lady of Silver, a woman Katara only heard about until now, a woman with a fearsome reputation who never quite let someone look her in the eye. Korra and the two young airbenders might have died, too, had Sokka not stumbled upon them- and Zuko.

_Zuko_.

To say that she was shocked when she walked into her grandmother's tent and found _Zuko_ lying on a cot is a drastic understatement. She wasn't aware of her mouth falling open or her eyes blown wide, but she _was_ aware of that sudden pricking under her skin; a tingle she hadn't felt in years, a tingle that was fear mixed in with something else, something undeniable, something that frightened her. She _was _aware of Zuko; her world zoned in on him, on the fine planes and angles of his face, slack with sleep. He was _sleeping_, damn it, in her tribe, in her grandmother's tent; but that was typical of him. He acted like he owned the world.

But then she caught sight of the blood and none of that mattered quite as much.

Since then, she felt half-conscious as she moved about, _doing_ and _talking_ but not giving any of it more than an iota of her attention. She was mostly in her head, sorting through half-forgotten memories and warring thoughts. She'd heard things about Zuko, of course; her grandmother was involved in a vast network of all sorts of people from the ends of the earth, and she had a few connections of her own. She heard about Zuko's _change_- his transformation. She heard stories yelled by people at the tops of their lungs, people who held hope for a new Fire Nation, for hidden nobility under all that destruction. She heard opposing stories, of murder and horror all at the hands of the Fire Prince, from people who wanted the opposite; who wanted the elimination of fire and all it stood for.

She knew both parties carried a grain of truth. Now, seeing Roku and Korra bring in the prince and worry over him as they would over a friend, tells Katara that perhaps the former stories were more truthful than the latter.

But none of that matters as much when she sifts through her own memories, vivid and sharp while these delivered stories of valor are faded. The Zuko _she_ remembers is not noble or honorable. Not honorable at all.

Katara sighs and wets the cloth again.

Zuko cringes away from her touch, as though he knows who she is. But that's a silly thought, and Katara knows it- he's just moving in his sleep, probably caught in the throes of a nightmare.

That leads her to wondering what a prince who has everything could be afraid of. But the thought feels intimate and somewhat unfair, so she pushes it away.

She starts when she hears a rustle behind her.

"It's me," her grandmother says, holding up her hands. Those hands are on her shoulders a second later, soothing the bunched muscles there. "You should get some sleep. It's nearly dawn."

But Katara doesn't feel particularily inclined to leave, and she wonders at that.

"Everyone's asleep." She grasps at the excuse; yes, she's being gracious, she doesn't want to disturb any other poor girl who could stay fast asleep rather than trudge in here and press wet rags to a pompous prince's forehead. "Someone should tend to his fever."

Kanna eyes her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she answers, too quickly. She tries to smile, but her mouth feels tight.

"I understand," says Kanna. "I've been pretending all night, too."

Now the smile comes naturally, and Katara rests her head against her grandmother and sighs. "Oh, Gran-Gran. Can we trust him?"

Kanna's mind snaps to the conversation she just had with Roku about the very same thing.

"I'm not sure," she says, honestly. "I'm inclined to say no."

Katara looks up at her, hearing the doubt in her voice. "But?"

"Roku trusts him," Kanna sighs. "And I trust Roku. He sent Zuko to guide and protect Aang when he was captured."

"Captured?" Katara asks, worry creasing her brow. Kanna nods, but does not seem to be inclined to say more, and so Katara files her questions away for another day.

"And Korra trusts him," Katara adds, biting her lip. "No matter how much she denies it. She let him protect Aang, let Mai protect him too, on Zuko's word. That's magnanimous, from Korra... and she was worried about Zuko, I could see it."

Kanna nods and stays silent, and Katara realizes she has more to say.

"She trusts him, and she doesn't trust easily." The words come quickly, instinctual. "And it makes me _want_ to trust him. And I've always- always looked at Roku as a role model, respected the way he sees things. But..."

"You can't forget what he did to you," Kanna finishes her sentence.

"I _can't_." Katara hears herself and realizes she sounds miserable; and she hates that tone, hates sounding indecisive or weak.

"I understand that," Kanna says, hands on Katara's shoulders again, soothing. "I understand what it's like to have something someone did settle so deeply within you."

Katara raises her head. "Then why do you sound like you're about to disagree with me?"

Her grandmother sighs, suddenly looking her age. "Because he helped Aang and Korra- because Roku trusts him. Because I think that we might not have a choice- that whether or not _we_ trust him is insubstantial."

Katara jerks her head. "What do you mean?"

"Roku is calling a meeting," Kanna says. "He's calling allies from all four nations."

Katara sucks in a breath, stunned although she doesn't fully understand. "Does this... does he mean to end it?"

"Yes," Kanna answers gravely. "He means to end this."

Katara swallows, her head spinning. Suddenly, Zuko's reappearance seems insubstantial in the face of this news. "What's going to happen?"

"I don't know," Kanna says, voice thick with honesty and the edge of fear.

Katara looks at her grandmother as is shocked by the slight tremor in her voice. Her world has been still for years, but suddenly she feels like a child again; she feels like she did on the morning when the black snow rained.

* * *

Mai watches from the doorway.

More than an hour before, she awakened from a nightmare, one that had her shaking and sweating though she can't for the life of her remember what happened in it. Sleep abandoned her then. Her head felt brimming with anxiety, worry for Zuko, who hadn't yet made an appearance or sent word. It seems that Zuko has more influence on her that she thought, she thinks ruely; controlling her state of mind whether he is near or far.

So she left the tent, thinking perhaps the sharp air will chill her, make her cot and blankets seem warm by contrast and lull her to sleep. And that is when she saw Kanna, marching across the ice- and Mai's eyes bulged. Because the girl, that dark-skinned water tribe girl that had been with Zuko and argued with him when she took Aang, was following her.

Mai pushed herself forward, heart pounding in her ribcage, not caring that she was barely dressed.

She follows the old woman and the girl from a safe distance. They part at one of the tents, the girl kissing Kanna's cheek before ducking into the tent. Mai continues to follow Kanna when she resumes walking, biting her tongue, not daring to hope.

And then she enters a tent, and Mai holds the flap of the entrance open, carefully, so carefully- and there is Zuko. Zuko lying on a cot, frowning in his sleep, Zuko with a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead which Katara immediately leans forward and wipes away, Zuko, _her_ Zuko, bandaged and being cared for, by someone who is not her.

Zuko, alive.

Mai's hand flutters to her mouth and holds back whatever it is that wants to escape- a gasp, a sob, she doesn't want to know. She wipes at her eye and comes away with a tear, and it doesn't hit her until then that she truly thought he was dead.

She waits until her heartbeat subsides before trying to arrange her thoughts into some rational order. She considers walking in and announcing herself, offering to tend to Zuko for the night- _forever_, she thinks with a blush. She has every right, after all; she is his friend, his acquaintance at the very least, and they know this. Katara is kind, and Mai knows she wouldn't object. But Mai's feet are frozen and she does nothing but watch, because for all her words Mai is a coward when it comes to Zuko.

And so she watches him and aches for him, catches snippets of the low conversation and pushes them away, unwelcome interruptions that they are. She catches the tenderness in Katara's motions as she tends to Zuko, the tenderness she can't seem to help- and she catches her own envy, and feels disgusted for it.

She comes away when the sun peeks over the horizon, casting one last envious glance at the old woman who dozes by Zuko's side, and the princess who still mops at his brow.

Mai retreats to her tent and tries to sleep, her mind acknowledging that she is exhausted but her body refusing to comply. She catches a few snippets of sleep but then gives up, leaving the tent and finding it midday, finding Katara in Zuko's tent again- or perhaps she never left.

The two airbender girls- Ikki and Jinora, they tell her- accost her, and she is stunned when the smaller one wraps her arms around her and squeezes. The oldest girl, the waterbender- Korra- she merely nods and gives a begrudging thanks, and Mai recognizes a kindred soul, one who keeps herself guarded.

The conversation with Roku is most difficult. She avoids him all day, dreading what he might say to her when he spots her- negative or positive, compliments or gratitude or warning, Mai doesn't want to hear it. Then he catches her when she is trying to hunt down some bread, and what he _does_ say is so insubstantial that Mai finds herself swelling with anger. She didn't get herself nearly killed to be so easily dismissed by the man who's opinion seems to matter most.

Her head aches by the end of the day, and Mai wonders blearily when Zuko will wake, when she will be able to talk to him. She falls asleep wondering about this, about what he'll say, about what how he'll look.

He wakes two days later, and Mai never quite gets her answer.

To her horror, Mai finds herself literally unable to enter Zuko' tent. Roku does, as do Kanna and the soldier with the wolf-head, and Ikki and Jinora and even _Korra_, who shockingly comes away from the tent with a smile on her face. She sucks in her breath, approaches the tent, and then her feet turn to lead, and suddenly she must turn away before she begins to hyperventilate.

Katara, she notices, seems to have a similar problem.

For someone who was in his tent so frequently over the past days, she is noticeably absent now. She speaks to Kanna and Korra and the warrior, but doesn't seem to want to see Zuko for herself. She walks by the tent often as she goes about her self-imposed duties, but doesn't enter. Mai watches her and grows irritated, even more so when Katara catches her lingering and suggests Mai go in.

Mai looks at her incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"You two are friends." Katara frowns, probably at Mai's expression. "You told me so yourself. Don't you want to see him?"

"We're not friends," Mai says automatically, then regrets it. "Acquaintances."

Katara nods, though hesitantly, and for some reason it infuriates Mai.

"Why don't you enter the tent?" She goads. "You've been in there so often in the past two days, you've probably come to know him better than me."

Katara blanches and looks down, a blush stealing over her face. "I'm- I'm busy."

She smiles weakly and walks away, shuffling quickly over the ice and, for once, disappearing from Mai's view.

* * *

He had exchanged words with Roku earlier. He had told him who it was that had wounded Aang so. And there was such a bitterness to admitting this own flaw in his family that Zuko had excused himself from all company, choosing instead to hide himself within the cold walls of the library.

It's the only proper building in the compound, which isn't saying much. It's made of wood that seems worn with age and abuse, the boards splintering. He thinks of the odd way he got here- he'd asked Korra, when she stopped by to visit him, to come to the tent when night fell and help him walk to a place where nobody would bother him. Korra looked surprised, and Zuko didn't blame her- he knows they are far from friends, barely even acquaintances, but he also recognized the gratitude in her eyes when she told him she's glad he's awake and he didn't think she'd deny him. She didn't, though her tone was confused and dubious, and Zuko settled back in his small bed and waited for night to come.

He hadn't intended to ask Korra at all- in fact, he'd surprised himself by doing so. His first choice was Mai. But when the day trickled by slowly and still she refused to appear, even though Zuko was sure she was at the tribe- he'd asked Roku- Zuko recognized her absence for what it was. She was still angry with him; angry with him for abandoning her, for his lack of trust in her, for his callous words when all she wanted was to help. He felt guilt seep into his pores but then he reminds himself that he nearly died getting here, and that eases the guilt a bit.

Now his mind returns to this, to Mai's face mingled with Azula's mingled with Aang's just as he was struck by lightning, and he doesn't hear the door open, but he hears it shut.

He turns, makes out the figure of a woman. But it's dark, welcomingly so, the only light that of the moon seeping in from the cracks in the roof, and so he doesn't see much more than a silhouette.

"Can I help you?" He says, recognizing that he's being unnecessarily abrupt and not caring.

"I don't think so," she says, though her voice is low and unsure. Then, firmer: "No."

He scowls- he'd come away from his tent and crossed the ice in a slow and painful journey to bask in some solitude. His ribs still throbbed.

"I'd like to be left alone," he says, pointedly. When she doesn't budge, he grows more insistent. "I don't need pestering."

"Nor do I," says she, from her perch by the door. "And you've been... you've been _quite_ the inconvenience, let me assure you."

The part of him that is an entitled prince flares, offended. "Do you _know_ who I am?"

"Unfortunately," she says, flat and unapologetic.

"High claims, coming from a peasant."

He sees the line of her shoulders rise slightly, as though she's straightening her back; and sure enough, her chin tilts forward, her hair falling back, and there's something familiar about the way it curls and sits on her shoulders, and Zuko's infuriated that he can't _see_ her.

"Don't call me that," she says, and she sounds younger somehow, even more familiar.

Zuko lights a flame in his palm, holding it out in front of him; and suddenly, she's cast into light, and he _remembers_.

"You," he breathes, and he remembers their encounter years ago, remembers her eyes and her hair and her defiance, remembers her in a vivid but fleeting image from his nightmare, remembers her voice and that he could hear it, somehow, when he was asleep.

He tries to school his face into an expression that is contrite. "Forgive me. I did not mean what I said."

"Clearly you did, else you wouldn't have said them," she replies swiftly. "And if you didn't, then you are more of a fool than I took you for."

With a mocking but shaky smile, she begins to turn towards the door. Zuko quickly leaps to his feet.

"Wait." He doesn't know why, but he's moving towards her. "Don't leave. You- you took care of me in my sleep."

She looks at him with narrowed, mistrusting eyes, but there's an undeniable flush to her cheeks which he takes as an answer. "I could hear you talking," he presses

"It's my duty," she says. "I'm a waterbender, a healer."

"I know," he says, remembering. "Are you the one who did this?" And he gestures to his torso, to the bandages that hold him together.

She shrugs. "My grandmother, mostly."

He knows she's being modest. "You saved my life."

"I wish I _hadn't_," she snaps, her eyes flaring.

"No, you don't," he says, not at all offended, because he _remembers_ her now and he knows what she's like, knows how she values life. He racks his brain for her name. "Katara."

Her eyes go wide and vulnerable, like a startled deer, and she moves for the door again.

"_Wait_." The hand that isn't flaming reaches automatically for her, but he quickly pulls it back. Somehow, he knows all hell will break loose if he touches her. "Don't go."

"And what will you do?" Katara's voice drips with disdain. "Tie me to a tree again?"

His lip curls, distaste flooding his mouth at the memory. Though he isn't looking at her, he knows Katara is smirking.

"You were persistent," Katara goes on. "Arrogant and entitled and cruel. Yet with all that, you never did get what you wanted."

Zuko grinds his teeth together. "I was a different man then."

"You weren't a man at all."

Her lips are pressed into a line and her fists are clenched into small fists at her sides. Her eyes are blazing. Suddenly she's ten years younger, she's the girl with the bright eyes and the scathing speeches, the one who planted the first seeds of doubt in his head. Zuko stares at her, mouth gone dry.

Katara must see something in his face because suddenly she looks down, reaching for and actually grabbing the handle of the door this time. "This was a mistake," she mumbles.

She's gone before he can think of a proper response, and Zuko spends the majority of that night wondering if he agrees with her.

* * *

Mai never works up the courage to visit Zuko, but it seems that he works up the strength to visit _her_.

She's sitting in a small chair at one end of her tent, where a boy helped her rearrange the animal pelts to make a small window. She prefers being outside, but the wind is cutting today, and the makeshift window allows her to be in the light without turning her limbs to icicles.

Mai rolls her head back, oddly relaxed. Her arm feels much better, almost back to normal, and the rhythm of the wind is soothing, and for once she's not thinking of Zuko- but then there's a crash behind her and she starts, whipping around in her chair and there _he_ is, holding himself up gingerly and frowning at a pot that he seems to have dropped.

"It came out of nowhere," he says to Mai, sheepish, and it is an explanation and an apology and a greeting all at once.

"What are you doing here?" she snaps. She's elated, of course, but she can't think past the thudding in her chest.

"You didn't come to see me," he says, and there's an edge to his voice now. An accusation. "Why not?"

Mai racks her brains for a proper answer, something impersonal and perhaps a bit sardonic.

"I couldn't," she finally settles for, simple and honest, and she hopes Zuko won't abuse this bit of vulnerability.

He doesn't. Instead he walks to her, but stops an arm's length away, and Mai is grateful for it. She couldn't handle him being too close right then.

"You cut your lip," Zuko says, almost musing. He reaches for her face as though intending to touch her, but pauses when Mai recoils.

"I broke my _arm_," she says sardonically.

"Right." Zuko shifts his feet awkwardly. "Right. Well... I wanted to thank you."

Mai blinks. She wasn't expecting this; she's been nothing but rude and callous and unhelpful, a burden to those who've helped her and a terrible friend to Zuko. "For _what_?"

"Risking your life," Zuko answers immediately, his gaze flicking to her arm. "Helping Aang, even though you had no obligation to him."

"I didn't do it for you." Mai turns her head and stares out the window. "I don't need your thanks."

Zuko nods, accepting her statement. "Then how about an apology?"

Mai scoffs, not shifting her eyes from the scenery through the window. "I don't need one of those, either."

Zuko looks exasperated. "I know, I know you don't need anything- but I want to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you."

Mai lets her eyes close for a moment. "It's forgotten."

Zuko knows that it isn't, but he has no way of saying so to Mai, has no way of regurgitating his apology in a way that will not come off as hopelessly desperate. Instead, he nods, turns on his heel, and aims for the door.

Mai's voice gives him pause. "One more thing."

He turns to face her. Mai visibly swallows once before speaking, and suddenly turns her eyes to the ground. "Was Ty Lee there? With... with Azula?"

Zuko is quick to answer, sparing her misery. "No."

Mai's sharp shoulders sag with relief. "All right."

Zuko turns to leave then, but before he reaches the flap of the tent he hears her say something; something that isn't meant for him, something like "thank you" or "thank the spirits."

He swallows and presses on, his chest swelling with pity for her for a moment, before he chases the emotion away. He eliminates her and Katara and his sister and Ty Lee from his thoughts, knowing he needs a clear mind for what lies ahead. Roku's mentioned something about calling a meeting.

* * *

**Q&A:**

_- envyofclouds_ asked: "is this Zutara? Because it's under that impression since Aang seems to be having his own little fling with Korra and Zuko with Mai...just no."

Yes, yes it is! I realize why you could have been confused before this chapter, because Katara wasn't even in the story yet- but I assure you, the primary pairing here is Zutara. And as for Aang & Korra, I really hope it's not coming off as a romantic relationship- that would be weird, since Aang is essentially a past life of Korra's. That would be like shipping someone with themselves. If that's your thing, go ahead, but my intent is to just keep them as the very best of friends, nothing more.

- _Jason9000_ asked: "I'm interested to know who is Saruman in this story."

There really isn't an exact "this character is this character" sort of thing going on in the story. I mean, some of the role substitutions are really obvious: Aang as Frodo, Zuko as Aragorn, Korra as Sam. But that doesn't mean that everything Sam does Korra will do, or that Aang will act encompass Frodo's traits. It's going to be a bit of a mix. For example, both Katara and Mai took some of Arwen's lines in this chapter, and Kanna had a few of Elrond's, but that doesn't mean they're going to remain fixed in those roles. As for who Saruman is, I'll let your imagination run wild. :)

* * *

_A/N: _I hope you liked this chapter! Pleeease review :)


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